


Sacred Duty, Bleeding Heart

by Lakritzwolf



Series: Sacred Duty, Bleeding Heart [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, F/M, Family, Hurt, Non-canonical children, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-14 23:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 104,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3429680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lakritzwolf/pseuds/Lakritzwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU ending of BotfA.<br/>Fili gets caught between the millstones of his duty to the kingdom and the call of his heart; he knows that he cannot rule the kingdom when his heir wouldn't be a full-blooded dwarf. Kili, Dís and Thorin are forced to watch as he tries to cope with the loss and fails.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am shamelessly making up dwarfish background culture as I go along, using dwarrowscholar's khuzdul dictionary and sites about dwarfish genealogy, mining, gemstones and herbal remedies as resources because I'm weird that way. You have been warned.

It wasn't even an attack. No orcish blade or arrow, it had been an accident – a case of sodden boots, wet moss and slippery rocks. 

They had all been in a hurry to get out of those bloody barrels and onto dry land, so when the current had washed them where rocky outcrops of the river gorge levelled out onto the river’s edge they had taken their chance right there and then, even if there was still some climbing to do and they had no way of knowing if the orcs were truly gone.

And that was why it had happened. Having almost reached the upper edge, Fili had lost his footing, then his grip, too fast for any of the other dwarves to react. His body had hit the rocks below, and now Kili was sitting with his brother cradled in his arms. Fili had a deep, ugly gash on his temple that was bleeding freely. The gash alone was bad enough, but who knew what other injury the wound might conceal. 

Kili couldn’t even feel the pain in his leg right now as he sat there and watched Oin desperately try to stop the bleeding. But even without a healer’s knowledge Kili knew it was a forlorn hope to try and treat a wound like that with nothing more than a strip of cloth torn off from a wet and dirty shirt. Oin shook his head, defeat in his eyes.

Just as Thorin knelt beside them, his face set tight, they heard steps crashing through the underbrush. Thorin was on his feet again in an instant, but it was just Nori stumbling out of the shrubs. 

“I heard goats down there!” He pointed downhill. “And chickens!”

“Come on.” Thorin waved Dwalin over who hoisted Fili up into his arms.

“I didn’t even know there were people living this close to Mirkwood,” Balin said thoughtfully. “I am not sure that this is a good idea.”  
“If you have a better one, I’ll gladly listen,” Thorin snapped at him, but the older dwarf shrugged with a deeply furrowed brow.

Bofur clamped an arm around Kili’s midriff to support him and the dwarves hurried through the strip of shrubby woodland that marked the outer edge of the Mirkwood forest, and crested a small rise. Before them the hills rolled down, covered in green grass, and there was a small column of smoke rising up behind some gnarled and wind-swept birch trees. A gaggle of chickens clucked peacefully in the sunshine, a goat bleated in half-hearted annoyance.

Thorin broke into a run. “Hello!” he roared. “Help! Someone!”

To their surprise there wasn’t a house, only two doors set directly into the side of the hill, between them a small latch with a ladder that had to be the chicken coop.  
The larger door almost looked like the entrance to a hobbit hole, apart from the fact that it was rectangular, not round.

At that moment a woman emerged from the smaller door to the right, carrying a bucket full of milk and a small milking-stool. Through the door she had just emerged from, goats could be seen chewing peacefully on their hay.

She was barefoot and dressed in a shirt and skirt of homespun wool. Chestnut hair was pulled back in a tight bun and dark green eyes looked anxious, almost frightened, at the dwarves’ approach.

“Please!” Thorin approached her. “Is there a village nearby? We need a healer, a herb woman, anything!”

The woman looked past him, saw Dwalin catch up with Thorin and what he was carrying. She took a deep breath. “The village was razed by orcs and burned to the ground, two years ago. But you are in luck. The herb woman survived, her house lying somewhat away from the village.”

Dwalin shifted the unconscious man in his arms. A small puddle of blood had already formed between his feet. “Well, where can we find her? Quick!”

The woman, who was very short for a human, even a woman, put the bucket down and nervously looked around. She seemed more than a little bit afraid of Dwalin’s angry bark. 

“You’ve already found her. Bring him in.”

The hut consisted of only two rooms, the entrance door led into a small kitchen and through the door to the right was a more spacious room with a fireplace and another bed. Carefully Dwalin placed his load there and stood back, looking around him with a scowl. 

Shelves lined the walls, packed with jars and boxes; a strange, herbal smell hung in the air. A flat kettle hung over the banked fire, and with a few, efficient moves the woman had stirred up the flames and lowered the kettle to get the water boiling while she lit up an oil lamp and picked a few jars from the shelves. When she turned around, she let her eyes roam over twelve dwarves and one hobbit packed into the tiny room. Despite that, the only sound to be heard was the soft ‘pit-pit-pit’ of Fili’s blood hitting the wooden floor.

“Well don’t just stand there, please give me some room!” She shooed the dwarves out with a few moves of her hands. “Get me some water, there’s a well behind the stable.” 

After casting a look at the kettle she noticed Kili still standing beside the cot. She looked at his face, narrowed her eyes and let her look sweep down him. It lingered on his thigh before her eyes met Kili’s again. 

“Sit down there, I’ll take care of you shortly,” she said, pointing at a small stool under the tiny window.  
“It’s not that.” Kili took a step back and lowered himself cautiously onto the small stool. “I... he’s my brother and...”  
Her expression softened. “I promise I will do my best.”

Kili nodded and watched her fill a bowl with the boiling water and add some herbs to it. A sharp, pungent smell rose from the bowl. 

Kili shifted on his stool. “What’s your name?”  
“Katla.”  
“My name’s Kili, and my brother’s is Fili.”

She nodded with a smile, then turned around again, a few clean cloths in her hand from a stack on another shelf, and noticed Oin standing in the doorway with the bucket. She pointed towards the cot. “Thank you.”

“I was wondering,” the elder dwarf began, “if you would allow me to help you? My duty has always been caring for the wounded.”  
Katla tilted her head after casting a glance at his hearing aid, but then nodded. “Can you remove the bandage?”

Oin nodded and set to work removing the clumsy, dirty, makeshift bandage while Katla returned to her brew. She strained it into another bowl and returned to the cot to have a look at Fili’s head wound. Fresh blood had welled up after Oin had removed the bandage and Katla quickly pressed a cloth soaked in the herbal brew onto the wound.

Anxiety written all over him; Kili watched them as they carefully cleaned the wound; a big, ragged gash on the left side of his brother’s forehead from the root of the nose to the hairline above his left temple. His hair and beard were matted with drying blood. Once the gash was clean, Katla gently pressed along the length of the wound; Fili stirred and moaned quietly, but did not awaken.

“Hold on, brother,” Kili muttered, the pain in his leg all but forgotten. “Hold on.”

Katla looked up and gave him a reassuring smile. “He doesn't seem to have cracked his skull, that's a reason to be thankful.”

Trying to return the smile Kili nodded, but his smile died before it had even emerged as he looked at the still and pale form of his brother, lifeless as a corpse.

Katla had produced a small package from which she now took a curved needle and thread. Oin held Fili’s head as she sewed the wound in small, tight stitches. 

“What happened to him?” she asked while she worked.  
“He fell,” Kili said, shuddering at the memory. “We were climbing up the cliff down from the river, and he fell and landed on the rocks below.”  
Katla nodded. “I see.” 

Then she straightened up and assessed her work. With a nod, she put the pack with the needles away and got a pair of shears which she used to cut the shirt off Fili’s body, neatly following the seams. Oin and Kili exchanged an uncomfortable glance as she proceeded to remove his boots and trousers. They were visibly troubled to see him so bared and exposed even when, for decency’s sake, she covered his groin with a cloth before cleaning her hands in the bucket.

The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the low mumbling of the others outside. No one inside the hut felt the urge to talk.

Closing her eyes, Katla now began to palpate every limb of Fili’s body, carefully digging her fingers into his flesh, starting with his chest. “Three cracked ribs”, she muttered under her breath. “Only one of them is damaged more severely. What kind of bones does he have?”

Kili and Oin exchanged a brief, almost amused glance.

As it turned out, his left arm was broken in two places, and his left shin was broken too. After setting the fractures, a task made easier by the fact that Fili was still deeply unconscious, she bound them in wet strips of rawhide; these would shrink as they dried and become hard as wood, thus keeping the healing bones in place.

“I’ve done what I can for now,” she finally said after having taken care of the fractures. “The rest is up to him.”  
“Thank you,” Kili murmured, unable to take his eyes off his brother’s lifeless face. “I just...”  
Oin patted his shoulder. “Don’t ya fret yourself, lad. He’s as strong as an ox and twice as stubborn. He’ll make it.”

Kili tried to smile, but failed.

“Let me look at your leg,” Katla said and knelt down before him.   
“It’s nothing,” Kili muttered.   
“It’s not big,” Katla replied sternly. “But it sure looks nasty. Let me have a look.”  
“Was that an arrow?” she asked after she had cleaned the wound and bound it with a fresh, clean bandage.

Kili nodded mutely, his face still burning as he pulled up his trousers and hastily buckled his belt. 

“Are there any more of you needing my help?” She then asked as she got up, dusting off her skirt.  
Kili shook his head. “I don’t think so. Just a few scratches. I was the only one stupid enough to get hit.”  
“Stupid or unlucky.” Katla shook her head. “Does it make a difference? You’re still alive. So is your brother. Be happy about that and let it rest.”  
“I guess you’re right.” He gave her a hesitant smile.  
“What was it that hunted you? Orcs?”  
Kili nodded. “A pack of them.”  
“And why exactly are you running around here in the middle of nowhere with naught more than the clothes on your back?”  
“We were captured.” He avoided her eyes. “We managed to escape, but only barely.”

Katla gave Kili a stern look. “We will have to keep an eye on that,” she said after a moment before opening the door to the kitchen. “I do not like the look of that wound.”

Bofur stood at the stove and turned around as he heard the door, beaming at Katla and Kili entering the kitchen. 

“We were kinda hungry,” he said, sounding slightly apologetic. “And I didn’t want to disturb, so I had a wee look around and then fixed us up a stew.”  
Katla looked at him, then up the stairs into the attic. “Well, I would have preferred being asked before you went raiding my pantry.” Katla shook her head, but this time she seemed a little amused. “But it sure smells delicious.”

“Everything he makes does,” Kili said with a smirk as he shoved past her. “And then it always tastes like a troll ate it first and shat it out again.”

Bofur threatened him with the cooking spoon in mock anger and both dwarves snorted and chuckled at each other.

They then took the large kettle between them and carried it outside where the others were sitting around a small, makeshift campfire engaged in a lively conversation. Yet everyone fell silent as Katla approached and sat down. She faced a lot of worried and expectant looks.

“He will live,” she said and gave Bofur, who just handed her a bowl, a thankful nod. “But he is weak. He lost a lot of blood, and with his injuries it is going to be a few weeks before he can walk again.”  
“We cannot wait that long,” Thorin said darkly, frowning into the fire. “We can’t.” 

The dwarves exchanged unhappy glances, yet none of them said a word.

Finally Ori broke the silence. “But can we just leave him here?” He looked anxiously around before his eyes rested on Katla. “I mean...”  
“You will have to,” the herb woman replied. “If you try hauling him through the countryside in his state he will be dead before next sunset.”

“Then it’s settled.” Thorin nodded, his face dark and eyes unreadable. “I hate to leave him behind, but we have come so far and he wouldn’t want it to have been for nothing.”  
“He surely wouldn’t,” Balin agreed.

A heavy, uncomfortable silence hung over the campfire, broken only by the crackle of the fire. A log broke and sent a shower of sparks high into the cold, dark night.


	2. Chapter 2

After the meal, which had been finished in silence, Katla was just about to take the kettle to carry it over to the well to clean it when Bofur took the handle from her. 

“Here, let me.” He smiled and winked. “I made the mess, I’ll clear it up. Besides, you’ve done enough for the day.”  
She returned the smile. “Thank you. But I’m afraid my work is not done yet.”  
“Is that so? What do you need? Can we help?”  
“Maybe.” She ran a hand through her hair; she was visibly tired after having spent more than half the day patching Fili back together. “I just need to warm some water to wash his hair-”  
“Wash his hair...” Dwalin gave her a dark look. “Hasn’t the lad gone through enough messing with his privacy already?”  
“Before it turns into a tangled, smelly mess that only a pair of shears can solve,” Katla went on, looking at her feet. “I only want to help.”

“Where’s the bloody bucket,” Dwalin growled after a small, pregnant pause as he got up onto his feet.

“Dori, Ori,” Bofur fell in. “Can you lads manage that? I wouldn’t trust Dwalin with washing Fili’s hair; he might just take him by the legs and dunk him in.”

Dwalin, having just returned from the well, now put the bucket down and narrowed his eyes. And then, with one swift bend and move, he had Bofur by the ankles and plunged his head into the bucket for a few seconds, hat and all. Amidst roaring laughter from the others he set the bedraggled Bofur onto his feet again, his hair, beard and hat dripping water.

“Like that?” Dwalin asked. “Och, dinna fret, lad. I’d never do that!”  
“Oh.” Bofur took his hat off and emptied the water out of it. “That’s a good thing, that is.” With that, he vanished into the kitchen.

“Here, lass.”Dwalin shooed Bifur and Nori off the small bench beside the door. “Have a seat and rest yerself.”  
“Thank you.” Katla sat down and closed her eyes.

“Don’t you worry so much,” Oin said to the others around the fire. “I know skill when I see it. Some fine stitching she did there, too. He’s in good hands.”

When Katla heard steps coming towards her, she opened her eyes to see Thorin approach, looking down at her with a frown on his face. “A few weeks you say?”  
“A few weeks until he can walk again. I am not sure how long it will take until he is well enough to travel. Head injuries like this often have an aftermath.”  
Thorin’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of aftermath?”  
“Headaches, mostly. Vicious headaches. Dizziness.” She cleared her throat. “Sometimes they cannot speak or remember anything, or have troubles with their eyesight. But only temporarily.”  
“I do not want him crippled,” Thorin growled softly. “He’d better be himself again when we come for him.” He got up and left with her staring at his back with a pale face.

“I am sorry.” Balin sat down beside her. “He’s caught between a rock and a hard place, he is. It’s his own nephew this is about, but if we do not hurry we’ll forsake every chance at success we might have ever had. Forgive his words.”  
Katla swallowed and nodded.  
“I know it’s not very kind of him, what he did,” Balin went on as he patted the back of her hand. “Growling at you like that after all you’ve done for Fili, and the food you’ve given us. Will you accept my apologies and my thanks instead of his?”

She nodded again, forcing a small smile onto her face at the elder dwarf’s kind words. When she noticed Balin’s scrutinizing look, however, the smile died.

“ _Gamut sanu yenet._ ” Balin searched her eyes but found nothing but incomprehension.  
“I...” she muttered after a moment. “I don’t understand.”  
Balin shook his head. “Apologies again, lass. You looked like a dwarven woman to me.”

Katla shrugged and adjusted the woollen shawl around her shoulders. “I am a foundling. A travelling trader found me further north in a basket adrift on a stream. The herb woman took pity on me and took me in. She... my mo... my stepmother said that there had been a small piece of stone wrapped into my blankets with me and it had given my name, and my father’s. I’m... only a half-breed.”  
“You should not be ashamed of what you cannot help,” Balin replied gently. “And I should have looked closer. You have no chin hair, after all.”  
With a hesitating look, she met Balin’s eyes again, then looked back at her hands. “I... You and the others are the first dwarves I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

The old dwarf opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again when he found nothing helpful to say. He just shook his head and patted her hand again.

After a few moments of silence, Katla got up. “I think I better go inside again and look after... Fili?”  
Balin nodded. “That’s his name.” He followed her with his eyes until she had vanished inside, and shook his head with a sad and tired sigh.

The two dwarf brothers had taken their task very seriously and had even cleaned the floor so that the room no longer smelled of blood, and all the dirty cloths and clothes were piled up in a corner.

Kili limped in behind her, his eyes on his brother, and without looking at her he asked in a low voice: “Can I stay here tonight?”  
“You will have to sleep on the floor.”  
“It doesn’t bother me.” He carefully lowered himself to the ground. “I just... want to be here.”  
Katla nodded and pulled the stool over from the window towards the cot.

Kili watched her as she checked Fili’s heartbeat and breathing, felt his forehead and carefully dabbed the wound with a cloth soaked in the strange-smelling herbal brew. Then she sat down, pulled the shawl over her shoulders and stared into the fire.

* * *

When Kili awoke it was still dark; the fire had burned down and cast the room in a dark, orange glow mingling with dancing shadows. He noticed that Katla was sitting next to Fili’s head and was sorting through a strand of his hair, removing knots and tangles with her fingers. 

Kili pushed himself up onto one elbow. “What are you doing?”  
Katla dropped the strand of hair and despite the dim light, Kili could see her blush. “I’m sorry. May I not be doing this?”  
“No. I mean, yes.” Kili gave her a small, lopsided smile. “What I meant was: why are you doing it?”  
Brushing a strand of her own hair behind her ear, Katla rested her eyes on Fili’s face. 

“Forcing it with a comb would hurt him,” she said after a moment. “It gives me something to do while I sit here, and he can feel he is not alone.”

Kili kept on watching her as she removed a small piece of twig from Fili’s hair and threw it into the fire. 

After a few moments, she went on, her voice low and her expression softening. “I know I said he is out of immediate danger of dying, that it all depends on him now, and I am in no doubt that he is a fighter and a strong man,” she said. “But even the strongest man can give up if he believes himself to be forsaken. And even if I cannot fight his fight for him, I can let him know he is not fighting alone.” 

She paused and her fingers went still. 

“The small hours of the night,” she continued, her voice even lower. “They are the most dangerous. I do not know why, but it is in these hours, when the night is darkest, that most men die. Maybe it is because the darkness is strongest then. But if you manage to get a wounded man through the darkest hours before dawn, he will likely live.” She paused again. “They seldom die with sunrise.”

The fire crackled, casting restless shadows over her face as her fingers began to work again. Kili watched this for a while before his eyes slowly fell shut again.

He awoke once more during the night, and found her now sitting at his brother’s side, one of his hands between both of hers. She did nothing, said nothing, she just sat there and held on to him. Closing his eyes again Kili lay back down, letting sleep claim him once more.

When the first rays of a milky looking sun broke through the foggy morning dew, Kili awoke again to find Katla still sitting as he last had seen her. He slowly laboured himself onto his feet and when she acknowledged his presence with a nod, the tiredness was visible in her deeply shadowed eyes.  
And while Fili still had the pale and lifeless complexion of a corpse, he was still breathing. She also had parted his hair at the back of his head and plaited into a braid on either side of his head before wrapping a bandage around the wound. 

Kili leaned over his brother and put a hand on his cheek. It was cool, but certainly not as cold and waxy as that of a corpse. 

“Erebor,” he whispered into Fili’s ear, and in Khuzdul, he added: “You want to see it, don’t you? Then you have to stop lying on your lazy backside and get yourself together, brother of mine.” He paused; there wasn’t even a twitch in Fili’s face that indicated he might have heard his brother’s words. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you,” Kili added in an even lower voice. Then – very gently – he touched Fili’s forehead with his own and straightened up again.

Katla arched her back and ran a hand down her face. Then she adjusted the tight bun at the back of her head and headed for the kitchen. “I need to milk the goats,” she said as she opened the door. “And see to-”  
“That would’ve been taken care of,” Bofur said brightly. “Good morning!” He was standing at the stove with a large frying pan. “How do you like your eggs?”  
Katla crossed her arms and shook her head. “Raiding my chicken coop as well? I... Thank you.”  
“Oh, don’t just thank me.” Bofur manoeuvred the big frying pan past her and outside. “Ori did the milking.”

The stable had been mucked out, and Dwalin was just stacking the last bits of wood he had been chopping. 

“That is very kind of you all,” Katla said to the group of dwarves around the small fire, a small frown on her forehead. “At least I won’t have to worry about chopping wood for the next few days.”  
“Think nothing of it, lassie,” Dwalin replied, picked an egg out of the pan with his bare fingers and swallowed it with almost no chewing.  
“I have to admit I found it not that easy to deal with, either,” Bilbo added. “But once a gaggle of dwarves has decided to enter your house and raid your pantry...” He broke off with a meaningful shrug as around him, the dwarves sniggered and grinned.

“You mean they do this all the time?” Katla pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders.  
“Well they...” Bilbo began, but Thorin cut him off.  
“Thank Gandalf for that misunderstanding.” And to Katla, he added: “We were in need of help and food, and we are very grateful for your generosity.”  
“It’s not as if you’ve given her any choice about the matter,” Bilbo said after wrinkling his nose.

Thorin cast him a look that would have felled a lesser hobbit.

Breakfast was a hasty affair as Thorin was already lashing the dwarves on to get going again. A few, Bilbo included, gave the now empty pan a mournful look as a single fried egg is no breakfast for a hungry dwarf or hobbit. But they got onto their feet without complaining since they all knew what was at stake.

Thorin approached Katla again, but this time, he inclined his head before he spoke. “I fear I cannot pay you more than this for your service or your food. I can only add my thanks.” He held out a small pouch of coins to her.  
Katla clutched the ends of her shawl. “There is no need for payment. I could not have done otherwise.”  
“Still. I am in your debt, and I will repay you.” Then he cast a look past her at the door. “We will come back for him, if he has not recovered enough to follow us by the time our task is done.”  
He still held the pouch, but Katla shook her head “Keep your coins, you might need them yet, and they are of no use to me out here.”

Thorin slowly lowered his hand and nodded, his lips a tight line. “I am in your debt, then. I shall owe you a favour for a favour, a service for a service.” His words a formal ring to it. He then turned around and walked away, fingers clutched tightly around the small pouch.

Balin stepped up beside her. “For our kind, it’s never easy, being in debt. For him it is especially hard, he has not much left other than his pride.”  
Katla swallowed. “I would not want anyone to feel bad about me helping them.”  
“Remember that when you call that favour in,” Balin replied in a low voice. “A debt is a serious business. Not being able to repay you will make him lose his face forever.”  
“I see.” Katla sighed. “I suddenly wish I had taken the coins.”  
Balin gently patted her shoulder. “Debts are nothing to be handled light-heartedly. Do not call it in that way.”  
“Thank you.” She met his eyes and sighed again. “Thank you for your advice. I will keep it in mind.”  
“I am sure you will.” Balin smiled before stepping away from her and to Thorin’s side.

“Get moving,” Thorin called out. “Kili!”  
Kili was still staring back and forth between the others and the door.  
“Kili!” Thorin walked back and closed a hand around his arm. “I hate to leave him behind as much as you do. But I am sure he would not want you to stay idly behind while the company needs you.”

Their eyes met, and after a moment, Kili swallowed with a nod. 

Thorin released his arm and patted his shoulder. “He is in good hands. Now come on.”

Kili gritted his teeth as he turned to follow the others.

Katla watched them go, and watched until they had vanished out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gamut sanu yenet - Well met


	3. Chapter 3

After adjusting her shawl, Katla went back inside and had a thoughtful look around her small and spotlessly tidy kitchen and the freshly scrubbed pots and pans hanging under the ceiling.

Yesterday had been day like any other, ever since Wiltburn had been destroyed. And then a group of dwarves had tumbled into her life and her house, had dropped a badly wounded man into her care, eaten three days’ worth of bread and eggs and vanished again, all in one day and one night.

With a deep sigh and a shake of her head, she picked up her bedding and carried it over into the other room where she dropped it in front of the hearth, to be closer to her patient while catching up on some much needed sleep.

She slept a few hours before she awoke again and immediately checked on Fili. 

His head had dropped to one side; his skin was pale but with an unhealthy blush on his face. Katla placed the back of her hand against his cheek and his neck; he wasn’t very warm yet, but she nonetheless prepared another herbal brew to be ready to battle the fever should it rise.

And the fever came, just as the sun was beginning to set. It came with vehemence; within an hour he was shaking and sweating, his head tossing to and fro while he muttered words Katla could not understand.   
She sat by his side for the rest of the night, cooling his face with a moist cloth and dribbling the herbal brew behind his lips with a spoon. 

At one point he opened his eyes and stared right at her, but his eyes were empty and unseeing, clouded by fever and pain. His head fell back with a hoarse, drawn-out moan of pain coming from his cracked and dried lips. Yet he almost chocked on the few drops of liquid when she tried to give him some more medicine. So she sat with him through the night, cooling his face and holding his hand, until shortly after sunrise the fever broke, vanishing as fast as it had come. 

It was around noon when he opened his eyes again and asked for water in a hoarse voice. Holding his head, Katla helped him drink the brew she had prepared to ease his pain before giving him some water.   
He did not open his eyes again, but she could see when the herbs began to do their work. The deep lines between his eyebrows began to disappear as he fell asleep again; not into the nightmare-ridden unconsciousness of fever and pain but the deep, heavy sleep of healing.

Her shoulders drooping with tiredness Katla now left her vigil to tend to her animals and after that, to the needs of her own body. She was hungry and needed to make more bread, she would have to settle for groat until the new loaf was ready.

As she ate, she started a broth from some smoked bones and herbs, and while she waited for the kettle to come to the boil she went outside again to take care of all the bloodied laundry. The sun was almost setting again when she was done and her hands were red and stiff from the cold. Shivering, she wolfed down another bowl of groat before straining a ladle full of broth into a bowl into which she beat an egg yolk. With that she went back to her patient who was still asleep, albeit less restful than when she had last checked on him. 

Katla sat down beside the cot and waited for him to wake up. When he opened his eyes again shortly after, they were clear of fever, but he seemed to have trouble focussing as he looked around.

“Where am I?” His voice was still cracked and hoarse. “What... happened? Where am I?”  
“You are in my house,” Katla replied. “You were brought here by your friends, you have been badly injured.”  
“Injured?” He tried to sit up, and with a grimace of pain, immediately fell back.

“Lie still.” Katla patted his hand. “You fell and broke a few bones, and injured your head. You also lost a lot of blood, so you will need a few days of rest.”  
“But...” Fili blinked a few times, his eyes swivelling through the room until they finally found her face. “Who... who are you?”  
“My name is Katla. I am a herb woman. I took care of you during the last two days that you were unconscious.”  
“Katla.” He furrowed his brow, then his eyes widened. “I...” He swallowed, and his face went even paler than before.  
Katla leaned forward and took his hand. “Your name is Fili, your friends told me. You will remember again. Injuries like yours take some people that way.”

Fili closed his eyes again, his jaw set tight. “How long?”  
“I don’t know.”  
He sighed. “It feels...feels terrible not knowing who and what I am... Who... who where those friends you told me about? The ones who brought me here? Where are they?”  
“I have only a few names. They were dwarves like you, but they already left, they seemed to have very urgent business to attend to.”

After a long moment, Fili opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a while. “One of them... was he a young dwarf? With dark, long hair?”  
“Yes.” Katla tilted her head. “If we think of the same one, then he would be your brother Kili.”  
“Ah.” His frown deepened. “Brother...” Then he looked at Katla. “I think I dreamt of him, you know. But it was all very... strange.”  
“It would have been,” Katla replied. “You had a fever last night.”

After another long pause Fili asked her for water again, and after helping him drink, she also fed him some of the broth she had prepared. While he was visibly uncomfortable with being fed like a child, he still thanked her afterwards. 

When their eyes met, a small and tired, yet true and gentle smile tugged at Fili’s lips. Katla returned the smile before hastily turning away with a blush creeping onto her cheeks, and the smile stayed on Fili’s lips as his eyes followed her out of the room. It stayed there until he had fallen asleep again.

* * *

Katla spent some time mending his shirt before going to bed that day, crawling into her nest of blankets between Fili’s cot and the hearth. She watched him sleep for a while, and listening to his deep and even breathing, she fell asleep herself.

Fili was not yet able to sit up the next day nor the day after. The day after that, however, Katla found him sitting up when she came back inside after having tended to her animals. That took her by surprise as she had not expected him to be able to sit up by himself for at least week longer.

“How do you feel?” She hastily put down the bucket of milk and hurried over to his cot. “Are you dizzy? Does your head hurt?”  
Fili pointed at his bandage and the wound over his left eye. “It hurts here. And it itches. But no, I am not dizzy.”  
Katla frowned. “You should be.”  
One corner of Fili’s mouth twitched as he lifted his eyebrows. 

“Well.” Katla brushed a strand of hair from her face, her cheeks reddening. “It seems dwarves heal faster than humans do. And don’t take as much damage to their bones.”  
It was Fili’s turn to frown now. “But you’re a dwarf yourself?”  
Katla avoided his eyes and looked past him. “I am... I am only a half-breed. I am a foundling; I grew up amongst humans and have never met dwarves before.”  
“Oh.” Fili looked down at his hands. “I didn’t mean to...” He broke off and gave her a somewhat shy look.  
Katla adjusted her shawl. “You had no way of knowing. One of your companions even greeted me in your language which... I guess it means I look more a dwarf than human.”

“You don’t look human to me at all,” Fili gave back after a moment. “Although I’m not sure how I can be so sure of this.” He gave her a crooked smile.  
“It certainly explains why I never had a chance of belonging here,” Katla said softly, almost as if to herself.   
Fili cocked his head with a frown. “You sound bitter.”  
“It’s nothing.” Katla got up and put another piece of wood into the fire.  
“I’m sorry.” Fili sighed. “But look... I mean, I’m tied to my bed here what with all my broken bones, and I need something to do or I’ll go mad with boredom. And since I can’t be the one talking since I couldn’t even remember my own name, I’ll do the listening, if you like.”

Her back was still to him, and she was staring into the fire. “It just...” She sighed. “It’s hard, not belonging.” She turned around but looked past him. “I mean, I never fitted in anyway because of being so short, but they never let a chance pass by to remind me of the fact.”  
“They?”  
“The others in the village.”  
“What village? Is it nearby?”  
“It was nearby. It was razed by orcs two years ago. They killed everyone.”  
“And you have been living here alone all this time?” Fili leaned a little forward. “Why? Why didn’t you leave?”

Finally, Katla met his eyes. “And where should I go? There is nothing for miles and miles. There is a city on the lake to the north-east, but it is a city of humans... and I am not sure I would even reach it. Orcs and goblins have haunted these hills ever since they destroyed the village.” She crossed her arms tightly. “At least my goats and chickens don’t mock me.”

“You sure did not have an easy life,” Fili said after a while. “But... if I may ask... how is it that you are a herb woman if no one...” He broke off, lips pressed together.  
This time, Katla gave him a tiny smile. “It was the herb woman who took me in and raised me. She also taught me everything I know. She was kind, for a stepmother who only took the little foundling in because no one else wanted her.”

The fire crackled in the hearth, a few drops of pine resin popping in the flames. 

“I could maybe take you with me,” Fili said after a while. “Once I remember where my home is, of course,” he then added with a wry smile.  
“Thank you,” Katla whispered softly. “Do you think your people would accept me more easily?”  
“You look like one of us,” he gave back. “And if anyone dares to taunt or mock you he’ll have to answer to me.”

They shared a smile before Fili cleared his throat. “I guess that would have been more believable if I would not be a helpless invalid right now.”  
“Probably,” Katla replied with a small smile. “Thank you, nonetheless.”

“That only begs the question of what I am going to do now if you can’t keep my mind occupied with talking about you,” Fili said, a lopsided smile on his face. “I would talk to you about my mighty deeds, if only I could remember them.”  
Katla chuckled again. “Make them up.”

Fili grinned at her and then looked at his left arm again and tried to flex his fingers. “How long until these can come off?”  
“I was thinking about three to four weeks, but since I had not expected you to be able to sit up already...” Katla shrugged. “It may be sooner.”  
“Can you check?”  
“Tomorrow.”  
Fili let himself fall back into his cot with a grunt of disappointment and lifted one eyebrow when Katla chuckled.

“Be worried when they moan and toss, my stepmother said. Be wary when they’re still. But when they grumble and complain, they’re on the mend for sure.”  
Fili couldn’t help but chuckle with her. “I guess that means I’m out of bed sooner than you thought.”  
“And surely not as soon as you would wish.”

They shared a laugh, yet when their eyes met and Fili gave her a playful wink Katla fell silent and turned away with burning cheeks. The silence that followed was a little uncomfortable.

“I... uh... did I do something wrong?”  
Katla swallowed and shook her head before giving him a shy and hesitant smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m just not used to... I mean, I have been living alone for so long now...”  
Fili slowly sat up again and tilted his head. “It must have been hard for you to lose them all when the village... was destroyed,” he said.  
Katla looked past him, deep lines around her mouth. “Hard, yes. But... well, they accepted me as Leonore’s apprentice and paid me for my services, but they never stopped their children from calling me ugly imp and flinging mud at me.” She looked at her hands. “They were not evil people. I just... I just had no real place among them.”

“I am sure you could have one with my people,” Fili said after a moment in a low voice.  
“I would like to believe that,” Katla gave back with a shrug. “Yet I am not sure I have the courage to find out.”  
“But you can’t stay out here all alone for the rest of your life...” Fili frowned and shook his head.   
“I already told you there is nowhere to go.” Katla got up from her stool and pulled the shawl closer around her shoulders. “Not everyone gets thrown a lot of good fortune in their lives.” With that, she left the room, leaving Fili to stare at the door with an unhappy frown, his hands curled into fists.

* * *

They only exchanged very few awkward and uncomfortable words for the rest of the day, and by nightfall Katla had removed her bedding from the floor to sleep in her own bed again.   
She came back with her sewing however, to make use of the light of the large fireplace as the kitchen stove gave warmth but no light. Yet she just settled down by the hearth on her stool without looking at Fili.

Thus two days went past where they hardly looked at one another, not even when she examined his fractures and declared them sufficiently healed that he at least could venture out to the privy on his own, if nowhere else.

She came back with her sewing that evening and after watching her work on his shirt for a while, Fili took a deep breath and bit his lower lip before he finally spoke

“I’m sorry I opened an old wound.”  
Her mending sank into her lap, but she did not move otherwise.  
“Look, I really am sorry. I mean, here I am, after you saved my life and patched me up and nursed me back to health, and all I do is blather without thinking. I... I would ask your forgiveness.”

She finally looked up. “What is there to forgive? You just spoke the plain truth, a truth that I am well aware of even if I try to ignore it. No, you are right; I cannot stay out here alone much longer. I can barely keep myself alive alone out here, and with no one to help me or mend my tools or repair anything out here I will not make it longer than another two winters.” She swallowed. “I just should accept your offer and stop looking back...”

“But I’m a stranger,” Fili said after a moment. “You have no way of knowing if you can trust my words.”  
At that, she met his eyes at last. “Yes,” she said simply.  
Their eyes were locked, and for a while, they just stayed that way.

It was Katla who finally broke the moment by letting her eyes drop onto the needlework in her lap. She tied a knot, bit off the last thread and got up, wordlessly handing him the newly mended shirt.

“Thank you,” Fili said as he took it.

Katla turned away from him and stared into the fire as he pulled the shirt over his head, and was so lost in the flickering flames and the images one could almost see in there that she flinched when Fili put a gentle hand onto her shoulder.

Fili gave her a gentle, reassuring smile when she shyly looked up at him. “I understand,” he said, his voice low. “But you saved my life, you brought me back to health and even if I might not have died without your aid, I might be crippled now without you having set these broken bones of mine.” He took a small step towards her. “I would trust you with my life, and everything else I have.”

She still wordlessly stared at him, her eyes slowly widening as Fili moved his hand up to rest it on her cheek. 

Just as he leaned his head forward, however, Katla seemed to awake from her trance and lifted her hand, resting a finger on his lips just before they would have touched hers. Fili hastily dropped his hand and took a step back.

“I’m... I’m sorry... I did it again now...”  
Katla shook her head, her voice was gentle. “I just... I fear that...” She took a deep breath. “You might... you might have a woman at home, you might even be married.” Looking away she closed her eyes. “I would not want to turn you into an oath breaker, even unknowingly.”

Then she turned around and all but fled the room.

Fili stared at the door for a while and, with a heavy sigh, he crossed his arms and stared into the hearth, watching the flames with a deep frown. He had no idea what had come over him to assault her like this, as if he was no more than a drunken rapscallion grabbing at every woman available, and he was ashamed of his actions. Yes, she was beautiful, but that didn’t give him any excuse for his behaviour towards her.

He kept staring as the fire slowly burned down into embers and the room around him grew dark, the shadows deepening and enveloping him like a shroud. In the weak, reddish glow of the last dying embers he finally lowered himself down onto his cot, but he did not sleep for a very long time.


	4. Chapter 4

Since the hut dug into the side of the hill only had two rooms, the kitchen and the room where Fili’s cot stood, avoiding each other in such a confined space was impossible, of course. The next day passed in an even more uncomfortable silence than the days before. Katla spent most of her time in the kitchen and Fili, who was by now able to walk, or limp, quite well on his own, spent most of the day outside. 

He had to admit that even if the homestead was small and poor it was beautifully located, overlooking the hills lowering down towards the shore of the lake. The flank of the hill above the hut was crusted with rocks and boulders with some birches growing between those. Another birch stood to the left of the entrance door.

Someone had made a real effort to build this place, a large rectangular chunk of earth and probably stone too had been dug out of the hillside; but instead of building a house there the rooms had been dug into the hill, leaving the rectangular terrace as some sort of yard. The main door was at the long side of this rectangle, next to it the latch into the chicken coop. The brown and white hens living there were peacefully clucking and scratching around in the dirt.  
To the right, on the short side, was the door leading into the stable and the privy. 

Despite his injuries Fili tried to make himself useful in any way he could; first mucking out the stables and then chopping wood. It took him forever, but he didn’t have anything else to do so it didn’t matter. To the right of the main door was a bench directly under the small window, and Fili spent a considerable time sitting there when he was too exhausted to do any more work. He wondered about the village Katla had talked about; it would have been further down the slope of hills yet no trace was visible from up here but a small pond, too circular to be natural. 

The sun was already well on its way to meeting the horizon when Fili, who had just finished stacking the wood along the wall of the goat pen and was appraising his work, realised that the goats behind him had stopped chewing cud and began huddling together. He hastily pulled his shirt over his head and left the stable when he heard it: the howling of a wolf.

He swiftly locked the stable door and shooed the chickens inside when he heard it again, much closer now. Katla stuck her head out of the door and called for him. “Fili? Did you hear that, too? Wolves?”  
There it was again, closer yet. 

Suddenly all colour drained from Fili’s face, his eyes widening in a sudden flash of realization. “No. Not wolves.” He ran for the door and pushed Katla back inside. “Wargs. It’s a pack of wargs!”

Katla seemed frozen to the spot for a second before covering her mouth with one hand as if to stifle a scream. “Quick,” she gasped. “Put out the fires!”  
Without hesitating Fili grabbed the bucket of earth beside the hearth and emptied it onto the fire while Katla did the same with the kitchen stove.  
She came hurrying back, threw the shutters of the two tiny windows shut and finally locked the door. 

The howls were closer now, and were still coming closer yet.

Fili had a look around, but nothing inside the hut could be used as a weapon; he grabbed the largest kitchen knife he could find and pushed Katla behind him.

“That door is not going to hold against a pack of orcs for very long,” he muttered. “I should try and get the hatchet from the...”  
“No.” Katla grabbed his shirt. “Even if they don’t see you, they will hear you!”  
“Most likely.”Fili turned around, grim determination on his face. “Will the door hold?”  
“It might not have to.” Katla pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Maybe they won’t see it. It’s getting dark, and they are not looking for us.” She swallowed. “Are they?”

Fili just shook his head and gripped the knife tighter. “Yes, it is dark, and no, these orcs are most likely not looking for us, but orcs do have excellent night vision and sense of smell.”   
“I know.” Katla’s voice was hardly audible.

From the sound of it, they were now coming to a halt on the large outcrop above the hut. Footsteps sounded almost directly above their heads. The sounds of barking wargs and yelling orcs, muffled by earth and stone, mingled with their breathing.   
They both stared upward and moved closer together.

Another yell, louder this time, a stream of their foul language, and another warg growl. Katla bit into her hand to stifle a sob of fear. 

Fili’s face was a mask of dark resolve as he pulled her close and into an embrace.  
“I shall protect you,” he whispered. “With my last drop of blood if I have to.”  
Katla buried her face into his shoulder. “You cannot fight an orc pack armed with naught but a kitchen knife.”  
“No.” He pulled her tighter in yet. “I can’t.”  
“Please don’t let them have me,” Katla whispered, her voice thin and shrill. “Please don’t let them get their hands on me! I’ve seen what they do to their prisoners, especially women... please, don’t let them take me alive!”

Fili took a deep, unsteady breath before turning his head to look at her. Her face was ashen, and tears were staining her cheeks. 

“You cannot save me,” she whispered hoarsely. “But you can give me a quick and merciful death so they cannot do these... these terrible things to me...”

He stared back, his face white and his mouth a thin line, and their eyes locked for a moment before he closed his. Fili then turned around so his back faced the door and, pulling Katla closer to his chest, rested the blade of the knife against her throat.

“Forgive me,” he whispered in a cracked voice.  
“I shall bless you with my last breath,” she replied, her voice almost inaudible.

Above them, more footsteps and more yelling and cursing. The sound of something large and canine digging with its paws.

“Will it hurt?” Katla asked, her voice no longer shaking.   
“Yes,” Fili choked out. “But not for long, I promise.”

Another yell, louder than the ones before. A lot of cursing, growling, yelling and even more footsteps. Fili’s muscles tightened, his grip around the handle of the knife becoming so hard his knuckles went white.

One yell, and suddenly, a terrible, enormous cacophony of yells, barks, howls, shouts and the trampling of a horde of creatures. Then the sounds moved away, leaving them in silence.

For a very long moment of sudden, deafening silence, none of the two moved; then Fili’s breath escaped him in an explosive huff as he slowly lowered the knife. 

With movements so slow and heavy as if he was moving underwater Fili stepped away from Katla and cautiously reached for the door. He opened it a crack and stilled, but nothing happened. He opened the door completely, and still, could hear no sounds outside but the wind in the naked trees above and the soft drizzle of rain. He stepped outside, and even clambered a few steps up the hillside despite his still mending leg, ignoring the pain. But there were only claw marks, footprints and stinking defecations. 

He entered the hut, and a small, almost incredulous smile appeared on his face. “They’re gone.”

Katla dropped her shawl as he stepped up to her and they threw their arms around each other, holding on as tightly as they could.

As suddenly as he had embraced her Fili stepped away from Katla again, his smile a little too wide and his voice a little too bright to be true. “I guess we’d better get the fires going again, hm?”  
“Yes, I guess we do that,” Katla replied, avoiding his eyes. 

She collected her shawl and headed for the kitchen stove while Fili knelt down at the hearth to light the fire again. He got a good blaze going before sitting down with his back to the fire to drive away the clammy feeling in his muscles.

Katla appeared in the doorway, but even as he looked up, she said nothing for a while. 

“Thank you,” she finally whispered. “Thank you, I mean it.”  
Fili nodded with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.  
Her lips parted and her eyes darted this way and that, but she only smiled at him as well and softly closed the door behind her. 

Fili stared at the door for a while before labouring onto his feet again. He removed his shirt and hung it over the mantelpiece to dry, then sat down again cross-legged with his back to the fire and began to untangle his messy, unkempt mane.

The drizzle of rain swelled into a downpour, and occasionally a drop would find its way down the chimney and hit the fire with a sizzle. Staring at nothing, Fili picked knots and tangles out of his hair and listened to the fire crackling behind him.

He was almost done when the low creaking of the door made him look up.   
Katla stood in the doorway, clad only in her shift, her hair undone and spilling down her back. And while she was still clutching the ends of her shawl to her chest, it had fallen from her shoulders; the loose neckline of the shift had slipped and laid the better part of her left shoulder bare.  
Very slowly, Fili got up.

“I’m so cold,” she whispered.   
He held out his arms to her and his voice was a low hum. “Then let me warm you.”

She hurried towards him on bare feet and stepped into his embrace, finally dropping the ends of her shawl as his arms closed around her. She hesitantly placed her hands on his shoulders and rested her head against his neck and beard as Fili buried his face into her hair. They remained like this for a long while before Fili leaned back and gently lifted her chin with one finger to make her look at him. 

“I do remember a few things by now,” he said, his voice low and his eyes soft. “I see the face of a woman, and even if I do not have a name, I know she is my mother. And I see a man I know to be my father. I can remember my brother, although I only know his name because you told me. And other faces of which I think as my friends. If I had a woman, there surely would be a face in my memories by now.” He smiled warmly and ran his thumb along her jaw line. “But the only woman I see when I close my eyes... is you.”

Katla exhaled softly and closed her eyes, and their lips met softly and lightly as the beat of a butterfly’s wing. Then their lips touched again, and with more passion, yet again. Fili buried his hands into her hair and pulled her closer, their kiss deepened and their breathing picking up speed.

Fili broke the kiss with a breathless whisper of her name, then trailed a line of small, gentle kisses down her cheek and neck and onto her bare shoulder, eliciting a small gasp from her every time his lips touched her skin. Then he let go of her, but only to grab the thick quilted blanket from his cot that he dropped in front of the hearth. He pulled her down with him and into another embrace. 

They did not speak anymore that night, save for the one moment when Fili looked at her face and whispered breathlessly: “I do not want to hurt you...”  
“It will be but this once,” Katla breathed with a smile and pulled him close again.

Outside, the cold autumn rain fell, but the glow of the firelight cast their entangled limbs in a warm sheen of molten gold.

* * *

Fili was the first to wake up. A startled frown appeared on his face, only to be immediately replaced with a soft smile. He turned towards the still sleeping form of Katla and awoke her with a kiss, then proceeded to make love to her again before they had even spoken their first word.

“Good morning,” Katla whispered with a smile as she had caught her breath back.  
“No morning can get any better than this.” Fili’s voice was slightly muffled due to his face being buried in her hair.  
She chuckled softly and toyed with a strand of his hair. “Can’t it, now?”  
“No. Not when I wake up with the most beautiful woman naked at my side.”

He peeled his face out of her hair as Katla stiffened and gave her a questioning look. “What is it?”  
Katla avoided his eyes, and her cheeks reddened. “It’s just... nobody ever called me that before.”  
“What?” Fili asked with a playful smirk. “Naked?”  
“Oaf.” Her blush deepened as she tugged at the strand of hair between her fingers. “Beautiful.”  
“But you are.” He leaned over her and searched her eyes. “Stop thinking about those things these humans said. They just don’t know what makes a good woman.”

Katla opened her mouth as if to protest, but Fili shut her up with a kiss.

“You are...” He sighed. “I wish I had a way with words, you know. You’re certainly not short. You’ve got just the perfect height!”  
“For you,” Katla replied, still sounding mildly embarrassed.  
“Of course.”Fili flashed her a lopsided grin. “Who else is there that matters?”

He kissed her again before she could protest and pulled her into a tight embrace. “You are strong, and yet, so soft, and so supple...” He breathed deeply against the skin of her neck, and as they both were still naked, there was absolutely no denying that he _did_ like her body very much. He lifted his head again and looked at her face, trailing a finger across her features. “And you have the most adorable blush I’ve ever seen. These strong, bold cheekbones, and that perfectly chiselled jaw... Your eyes are like gemstones and...” He sighed. “... and I sound like an idiot.” 

Despite her fiery blush, Katla had to laugh.   
“See. Now you are laughing at me.”  
“No,” she chuckled. “No, I do not make fun of you. What kind of gemstone?”  
Fili narrowed his eyes. “It must be jade.”  
“And why is that?”  
“It is that certain shade of green... and besides, jade gemstones are known to attract love. Or lovers.”  
“Oh.” Katla lowered her eyes. “I never meant to...”  
Fili cut her off with a kiss and pinned her hands to the ground with his. “I assure you it worked nonetheless,” he whispered into her ear. 

They had breakfast at noon that day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watching the Hobbit movies had me develop a weird kind of beard-fetish, I swear.

Newly enamoured as they were they did not get much done that day. They just took care of the animals and other than that, spent their time touching, kissing, laughing at one or another’s silliness without a reason and in general relishing the thrill of the new and undiscovered.

That evening, Fili sat in front of the hearth after having had a cold and rather short bath at the well and was untangling his hair; and Katla knelt down beside him after having tidied up his shirt and boots which he had carelessly shed beside his cot.

“Would you like me to help you?” She held out a comb to him.  
“Thank you,” Fili replied and was just about to take the comb when their eyes met. “I’d like that very much.” With that he dropped his hand again and shifted his position, turning his back to her.

Katla hesitated for a moment, then she moved closer and began working on his still moist and unruly mane. Working with her fingers she first picked out the larger knots and tangles, a task that took quite some time, before using the comb. Yet whenever she encountered a knot that the comb wouldn’t clear at once she put the comb down and removed said knot with her fingers, all the while humming under her breath.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Fili asked after a while, his voice low but sounding audibly amused.  
“Why, yes,” Katla gave back. “Your hair feels lovely.”  
He chuckled under his breath. “Now you are making me feel embarrassed.”  
Katla ran all ten fingers through his hair, from roots to tips. “It would have been a real shame to have cut it off.”  
Fili’s shoulder’s stiffened. “What?”

“When they brought you here, your friends.” She continued to run the comb through his hair despite there being no more knots to be combed out. “Your hair was a tangled, dirty mess matted with dirt and twigs and drenched with drying blood, as was your beard. I thought it was hopeless, even after two of your companions had washed it.”  
“But...”  
“I spent the whole night picking knots and twigs and bits of leaves and dirt out.”  
“The whole night?” Fili craned his neck to look at her over his shoulder. “I... oh... thank you.”  
Katla smiled at him. “It gave me something to do while I sat with you through the most critical hours after your injury. I didn’t mind it.”

“And you are not even aware of what you did for me,” Fili said in a low voice after leaning back to rest his head against her shoulder. “What that means to me. For a dwarf to lose his hair and beard like that... it’s... it is hard to explain, but it amounts to a loss of… pride and self-esteem.” He cleared his throat. “To put it mildly.”

“I realized something like it when I mentioned to your companions that I needed help with washing your hair.” She toyed with a strand of his hair, her forehead furrowed. “They were very uncomfortable when I said that if we wait too long the problem could only be solved by a pair of shears.”  
Fili shuddered. “I add it to the list of things I owe you.”  
Katla chuckled under her breath. “You owe me nothing. I did what needed to be done.”  
He turned around and knelt to face her. “But I do,” he said earnestly. “I do!”  
“No.” Katla shook her head vigorously. “I am a healer, saving people’s lives is what I do! I can’t have everyone around me being indebted simply because I am what I am!”

They stared at each other for a while, until Katla closed her eyes and spoke again, shoulders hunched. “It is this dwarfish thing about being in debt that I don’t understand, is it?”  
Fili took a few moments to answer. “Come here,” he said softly and pulled her into an embrace. “I won’t have you feel bad about things you cannot help. And if you want, then I’ll try to explain.”  
“I would like that very much,” Katla whispered, relaxing into his embrace.

“A debt is a serious business,” Fili began. “And it hardly matters if you owe someone a small favour or your life. It’s the principle that matters most. As a warrior, owing someone your life is of little consequence because you fight with these dwarves and have their back, and they have yours. You constantly save each other’s lives, so there is... I guess you could say it is an unwritten code that between warriors, a life owed is a live saved, and the other way round.” He took a deep breath and stared at nothing for a moment. “But being in debt is being honour-bound. He who cannot pay his debts has no honour. Now, I know that most humans who ever learned about it think it is atrocious, but we have a lot of written laws and codices about the value of everything so a debt can always be repaid in coin if it cannot be repaid in kind.”

“Even a life?”  
“Even a life. Limbs, too. Insults, adultery, you name it.”  
“A limb? So if someone hacks off...”  
“No,” Fili gently interrupted her. “Not that simple. Simply hacking off someone’s limb or killing someone is a crime and is treated that way. But if there had been an accident, for example...”  
“I think I understand,” Katla said thoughtfully. “If you cannot repay any kind of debt, you pay the price the laws state, and everyone is satisfied?”  
“Yes,” was Fili’s answer. “Well, mostly, but that is... complicated,” he then added.

Katla was silent for a while. “But how do your people treat their healers?” She finally asked. “Everyone would be indebted to them without being able to repay them. Are they very rich, then?”  
“Now that is even more complicated.” Fili cleared his throat. “When you become a healer, there is a certain ritual in which you foreswear all debts concerning your trade. But I cannot explain this any better, because I simply don’t know.”

Her face set tight and her lips pressed together, Katla freed herself from Fili’s embrace and stared into the fire. “I think I made a grave mistake,” she whispered.  
Fili took one of her hands in his. “Tell me.”  
Katla cleared her throat. “When your friends were about to leave, your leader approached me and wanted to pay me for my services. But I insisted I did not want to be paid as coins have no value out here. It is true, and I did not want any payment, I still don’t want it, but I left him in a bad position, didn’t I?”  
“Yes,” Fili gave back. “Yes, but you had no way of knowing.”  
“I didn’t, but...” She shook her head. “It still worries me.”

“And that honours you.” He pulled her close again. “And now you should stop worrying so much. You weren’t finished with my hair, were you?”  
Her head against his shoulder, Katla chuckled. “In actual fact, I was.” Then she leaned back again. “But I could braid it for you, if you like.”  
Fili gave her a look full of longing. “I would like that very much.”  
“Well... how would you like it?”  
Fili parted his hair just above the ear. “One braid hanging in front of the ear, and the other, right behind it.”

Smiling to herself, Katla did as he asked and parted his hair very meticulously with her comb to ensure the braids would be even. She paused here and got up to find herself a ball of yarn and after tearing off a few pieces she settled down beside Fili again. While her fingers worked she watched his face, blushing slightly when he smiled at her while looking at her from the corner of his eyes.

Since there was no mirror he could only feel the braids but assured her that it felt just right, and certainly better than he could have done by himself. Then he picked up the comb and began to work at his beard.  
Katla simply watched him; yet as he cast a casual glance at her his hands suddenly froze for a second before he hesitatingly continued what he was doing.

Lowering her eyes, Katla picked at her skirt and swallowed. “Should I leave you alone to that?”  
“What?” Fili emitted a slightly shaky chuckle. “No. No, don’t you dare stop admiring me.”  
At that, Katla had to chuckle as well. “Well, would you like me to braid your beard as well? I am sure I remember what it looked like.”

This time, Fili froze completely and stared straight ahead for a long while that stretched into an uncomfortable silence before he cleared his throat.

“I said something really wrong just now, didn’t I?”Katla began kneading her fingers. “What have I done...”  
“What?” Fili shook his head as if she had knocked him out of a daydream. “No... not... as such. Just...”  
“Just what?”

Fili looked up and met her eyes, and this time it was him who displayed a slight reddening of the cheeks. “It’s just that... uh...” He ran a hand through his hair and scratched the back of his neck. “That... I mean that is not what...” he broke off again.  
“Fili...” Katla sounded slightly panicked. “What did I just say?”  
“Nothing bad!” Fili hurried to say. “Nothing bad, but... something really... I mean...” He chuckled again, but this time it sounded more nervous than amused.  
“A real dwarf would never have said that, would she?”  
“Well...” He coughed. “Uh... no.”  
“Please... what...” Katla was close to tears.

Fili stared at her for a few moments longer. “Today it’s sometimes used as... as a proposal of marriage, but...” Then he took a deep breath. “It’s actually an ancient ritual reserved for the wedding night,” he finally blurted out.  
Katla stared at him open-mouthed, her face turning stark crimson.  
Smiling softly, Fili placed a finger under her chin and closed her mouth. “You couldn’t have known. It is something very intimate. It is... well... if I told my friends I had lain with my woman last night and made her scream my name until she was hoarse, they would smile and praise my lovemaking skills. But if I happened to accidentally mention that she braided my beard afterwards they all would be terribly embarrassed and would not know where to look.”

“I’m sorry,” Katla whispered in a husky voice.  
“No.” Fili leaned forward and touched her forehead with his. “No, don’t be. I said it’s nothing bad.”  
“But a real dwarf woman would never have said it.”  
“That is true.” Fili’s voice was very low and deep. “No woman has ever even touched my beard. Not that there is much to touch, what with my age and all...” He trailed off into a whisper. “I often wondered what it would be like, you know.”

Their lips almost touched and Katla had her eyes closed by now. 

“I often wondered, but I never felt the urge to get that intimate with any of the women I... knew.”  
Katla shuddered as the breath of his whispered words grazed the skin of her lips.  
Fili slowly moved his lips past hers. “But since you asked,” he breathed into her ear. “The answer is yes. I am the first man you have lain with. Be the first woman to...” He swallowed hard. “...braid my beard.”

He then moved his lips across her cheek again and kissed her, a soft and passionate touching of lips, before he leaned back to watch her with heavy-lidded eyes. His chest was heaving when Katla hesitatingly took the comb out of his unresisting fingers.

She hesitated for a heartbeat or two before leaning forward and cautiously running her fingers through the thickest part of Fili’s beard, just under his chin. His eyelids fluttered shut and his lips parted slightly with a soft intake of breath.

A small smile spread on Katla’s face as she drew her fingers back again, increasing the pressure ever so slightly. She could feel him swallow hard.  
Then she took another deep breath and adjusted the grip on the comb. There was an audible intake of breath with every stroke of the comb, and with her smile widening, Katla continued to comb through his beard even long after she had smoothed it out to perfection.

Leaning back to assess her work she casually brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead which caused him to smile, yet without opening his eyes. Then she reached up towards the mantelpiece where the two beads had been lying ever since she had removed them in the first night after his arrival.

“How do these work?” she whispered.  
Fili slowly opened his eyes and their foreheads touched while they leaned over her hands and he showed her how to fasten them to the tip of a braid. He did not meet her eyes.

Katla moved closer yet and his chest moved faster when she began to comb out his moustache, and by the time she put down the comb there was a sheen of moisture clinging to his temples. With slow, measured moves she sifted her fingers through the right half of his moustache before parting it into three even strands. As she began to braid, however, his breathing picked up speed, and by the time she had clasped the small bead around the tip, he had a small, incredulous smile on his lips. His eyes, however, were still squeezed shut.

She then proceeded with the other side of his moustache, and the moment she had clasped the bead around it he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down. Yet after a long and very passionate kiss he buried his face into her shoulder and whispered: “Let me hold you.”

Katla closed her arms around him and turned her head towards him, burying her face into his hair.  
They remained like this until they fell asleep that night without even undressing any further.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day was a crisp and clear autumn day, the sun warming the face but not the air anymore. 

Having found a long staff of ash wood that had been meant to replace the shaft of a broom or a hoe, Fili had turned that staff into a makeshift weapon. He had wound straps of leather around the middle for a grip and studded both ends with nails, and while he proclaimed it a poor defence against an orc attack, it was definitely better than a kitchen knife.

Katla had joined him with another set of sewing and now sat on the bench beside the door, watching as Fili practised moves and steps, swinging attacks and blocks with the staff. He was being adamant about it, and soon had shed his shirt despite the cool autumn air.  
He had just finished fighting another round of invisible foes when he looked at Katla and found her watching him with a small, sensuous smile on her face, her sewing lying idly in her lap.

“I see you are still admiring me,” he said with a smug, little grin.  
Katla blinked and then blushed, but kept on smiling. “Oh, of course. You could just stand there doing nothing, wearing a dirty old sack, and I still would admire you.”  
Fili raised his eyebrows, feigning indignation. “Are you saying I could have spared myself the trouble?”  
At this, Katla had to laugh. Fili joined her and walked over to the bench to pick up his shirt. 

“What are you doing?” he asked after having pulled it over his head, pointing at her needlework.  
Katla’s smile dwindled. “I had this woollen cloth for a new cloak, but now I am making a tunic instead. It is... more suited for travelling.”  
Fili slowly sat down beside her, and after looking at her for a moment, put an arm around her shoulders. “I will come back,” he said gently. “I will not leave you alone out here. I will come back, I promise.”

She looked up at him and sighed. “It will be very lonely here without you.”  
“But not for long.” He touched her temple with his forehead. “Not for long. I promise...”  
“Please, don’t make a promise without knowing if you can actually keep it.”  
“It doesn’t matter,” Fili gave back, sounding slightly hurt. “No matter what comes, I will be back for you.”  
“That I can accept. But you have no way of knowing how far you will have to go yet and what will happen on the way.”  
Fili breathed out a deep sigh. “No,” he admitted. “You’re right.”

Katla looked at her sewing again and sighed as well. Then she stood up and shook it a few times. “Here,” she said. “It’s almost finished; I just haven’t done the hems yet.”  
Fili slipped the tunic on and looked down at himself before smiling at her. “You’ve got a good eye.”  
“I measured your shirt,” Katla replied, returning the smile.

Crossing his arms, Fili then looked at the sun that was beginning to disappear behind the ridge, his lengthening shadow pointing away from the door. “Now I the only thing I need is to know where I am meant to go...”

Katla slowly got up and stepped to his side. He wordlessly pulled her into an embrace and they stood there for a while as the sun vanished behind the hills, leaving them in the cooling shadows of the approaching night. 

“I remember the others who were with you went north,” Katla finally said. “Heading for the lake.”  
They both turned to face that direction, where the faraway lake was usually only visible during daylight, nothing more but a misty spot of murky blue. 

The lake was on fire.

“Fili,” Katla whispered hoarsely.  
Fili did not reply, he did not move at all.  
“Fili?”  
He kept on staring ahead, eyes wide, lips parted, as rigid as a statue.

“Fili?” Katla’s voice was trembling as she turned to look at him.  
He kept on staring ahead, his lips moving, forming words only he could hear.  
Katla swallowed and laid a hand on his arm. 

“Fire,” he whispered.  
“Fili?” It was hardly audible anymore.

“Dragonfire...”  
Katla took a step back, her eyes wide with fear.

“The dragon... the mountain...” He violently shook his head as if to dislodge something. “The mountain...” Then he stumbled, almost losing his balance. “The mountain!”

Katla grabbed him by the elbow, and when he looked up at her, his face was as pale as a shroud.

“The mountain,” he said again, his voice hoarse. “I need to reach the mountain!”  
“What mountain?” Katla asked, her voice trembling.  
“The Lonely Mountain.” Fili swallowed, he was breathing heavily. “They need... I need to be there. They must have awoken Smaug!”  
“Fili what are you talking about?”

Fili blinked and looked at Katla again as if he was seeing her for the first time.  
“Katla...” He pulled her close and pressed his face into her hair. “The mountain. The Lonely Mountain. That’s where we were headed. We set out to reclaim our homeland that was taken from us. The dragon has taken it from us. And now they have awoken him... Katla I must go! I must go at once! My brother, Thorin, they need me!”  
“But... you cannot fight a dragon...” Katla stepped back, clutching her throat.  
Fili’s face tightened until his mouth was a sharp, thin line. “We will. And we will win.”

Katla stared at him in silent horror. “Fili, please...”  
Fili squared his shoulders. “I must. Katla, I belong with my brother... and Thorin... I cannot forsake them now.”  
A silent tear trickled down Katla’s cheek. With a sigh, Fili stepped closer and brushed it away with his thumb.  
“Forgive me. But I must go.”  
“I know.”

He pulled her into an embrace and held her as tightly as he could. “Forgive me. But I cannot stay here while the others fight and need my help...”  
“Of course you cannot,” Katla whispered into his shoulder. “But... a dragon? Fili, I will never see you again...”  
“No.” He pressed a kiss onto the top of her head. “No, I will be back. I promise. I swear. I will come back for you, laden with riches from the dragon’s hoard, and you will never want for anything in your life again.”  
“I don’t care for any riches. I care for you!”

Fili leaned back and put a finger under her chin, pressing gently so she would look at him. “And I care for you, _Azbaduê_. And with or without riches, I will be back.” Then he winked. “I might be a little singed around the edges, though.”  
Katla shook her head while attempting to smile through her tears. Fili’s smile softened and he pulled her close to kiss her. They held on to each other for a while longer, before Katla broke free from his embrace.  
“Wait here,” she said and vanished into the house.

When she emerged again she handed him a small leather bag. “Here. Wayfarer’s food. You will need your strength when...”  
“Thank you.” Fili took the bag and slipped it over his shoulder. Then he picked up his staff and squared his shoulders again. “I’m coming, Kili, Thorin. I’m coming.”

“Fili?”  
He turned again at the sound of her voice. “Yes?”  
She tried to smile, but failed. “Farewell.” Her voice was thick with tears she was desperately fighting.  
He pulled her close yet again and placed a kiss onto her forehead. “ _Tak natu yenet._ Until we meet again, my gemstone.”  
“Go,” Katla whispered, her voice close to breaking. “Go, and do not look back.”

Fili nodded and with a sigh, turned away and left, trotting down the hill with swift, fast steps. Katla watched him go until he vanished out of sight before she returned into the hut. She walked over to the hearth, knelt down on the quilt that was still lying there as crumpled as they had left it that morning and, after running a hand over a few of the folds, she threw back her head and let her feelings run free in desolate, anguished sobs.

**x-x-x**

Fili trotted through the darkening night, always heading north for the lake, a task made easy by the foreboding light of dragon fire. Once the ground levelled out and he got closer to the lake he had to slow down into a walk as his not yet fully healed leg was beginning to cause him discomfort, but with his practised hill walker stride he was still able to cover a lot of ground as he was carrying nothing but a small bag and his staff.

Alternating between jogging and walking enabled him to reach the lake quicker than he had initially believed. Keeping close to the shore, he continued heading north, towards the mountain rising from the foggy morning dew.

Midmorning on his fifth day had him climbing up a rise where he ate the last of the bread and dried fruit from Katla’s bag. Then came the descent, and he drank deeply from the cold stream after crossing it and before topping the rise on the other side. It was then, as he stood at the summit, that he heard it. 

A sound like distant thunder, or a roaring mountain stream after the snowmelt in spring. Then the wind shifted and for once, blew his hair out of his face instead of pushing it into his eyes from behind. And then he could smell it, too.

Blood. Fire. Terror. Death.

His grip around the staff tightened and he set off at an even faster pace now. 

There was a battle raging right below the mountain, and he was not at his brother’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Azbaduê_ : My Lady


	7. Chapter 7

As Fili came closer to the battle the undistinguished roar turned into a miasma of different sounds: shouts, screams, the clashing and clanging of weapons, hoof beats, footsteps. He kept low to the ground and tried to catch glimpses of what was going on before him. He could see elves on horseback and on foot, he saw men and he saw dwarrow; he saw them fighting orcs, mounted on wargs and foot soldiers, and he could even see trolls. 

He skirted the edge of the battle, always keeping an eye on his footing and the other on the battlefield in case the tides of war swept a group of fighting enemies his way.

He could see the entrance to the mountain now, and also that no one was guarding it. Crouching behind a few boulders, he cursed under his breath and then, on his belly, crept around them. 

“Thorin,” he muttered. “Brother, where are you?” 

Keeping low to the ground he hurried over to the next cluster of rocks, and from there on towards a large, fallen tree, covered with ancient moss and lichen.

“ _Remenu!_ ”  
“ _Khayamu!_ ”

Fili jumped in shock, then immediately spun around and ran down the slope towards the source of the dwarven battle cry. It nearly cost him his life when he so thoughtlessly sprang free of the undergrowth as he almost impaled himself on a dwarven battle lance.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” The dwarf at the other end of the lance looked Fili up and down. “Friend or foe?”  
“I am Fili, son of Dís, nephew of Thorin Oakenshield!” Fili dropped his bag. “I was part of the company that headed for Erebor, but I was injured and had to stay behind...and have caught up just to find myself in a battle without a weapon to my name.”  
The dwarf, one of Daín’s troops wearing the armour of the Iron Hills, lowered his lance and cast a look over his shoulder. “We have a few gravely wounded men,” he said. “Go ask them. Some of them won’t be joining the fighting any more, but could be comforted that their arms still could.”

Fili nodded and hurried over to where a group of men sat huddled under a gnarled, windswept tree. One of them, a dwarf much the same age as Fili to judge by his beard, waved him over. 

“I’ve overheard,” he said, his voice clouded by pain, as Fili had reached him. “Take my mail shirt; I won’t be doing any fighting today anymore.” Below the knee, his left leg was a bloodied mass of shattered bone and torn flesh. “Was a warg got me between his jaws. At least that one won’t be tasting any more dwarrow flesh.”

Fili nodded and helped the wounded warrior out of his chainmail. It fit well, and the woollen tunic provided some extra padding. The young dwarf offered Fili his sword, which Fili gravely accepted, and his shield. 

“I am more accustomed to fighting with two blades,” Fili said. “You wouldn’t...”  
“Take Gusin’s,” the young dwarf replied and picked up the sword of the warrior beside him. “He won’t be needing his anymore.”  
Fili took the weapon with another grave nod and bowed towards the dead warrior. “Gusin, your blade will yet drink more orcish blood. I shall honour it.” And to the young warrior, he added: “As I will honour yours. Give me your name, so I can return it to you after the battle.”  
“I am Tosur, son of Tosil,” the young dwarf replied. “Now go and take all our blessings with you.”

“ _Tan gamut wargai-menu_ , Fili, son of Dís.” The old veteran with the battle lance was at Fili’s side again. “Rurin, son of Rusil, cannot stand idly by while others yet fight.”  
“ _Tan gamut wargai-menu_ , Rurin, son of Rusil.” Fili saluted him with crossed blades, and the two of them trotted downwards, into the thick of the battle.

As soon as they reached the edge of the battlefield a group of four orcs on wargs attacked them, but these had been in the fight since sunrise and all of them were wounded. Since Fili was fresh and with his thoughts of finding his brother and uncle lashing him on, the two dwarves disposed of them without receiving major wounds themselves.

Catching his breath, Fili clambered up a large boulder to look over the battlefield once more. A large cluster of dwarves were circled by orcs not too far away, a large piece of ruined wall at their back. Sunlight glinted on mail and he could hear a fierce battle cry. 

“ _Khayum Thane! Du Bekar!_ ”

“There!” He gestured at Rurin and jumped down from the boulder. “Hold on, brother!”

Yelling a war cry at the top of his lungs, Fili charged into the orcs from behind, only dimly aware that Rurin was following him. “ _Khayum Thane!_ ” He screamed as he felled the first orc. “ _Du Bekar! _”__

Had they not had the element of surprise on their side, they all might yet have died that day. As it was, the orcs had not expected reinforcements and scattered as Fili and Rurin broke into their ranks, thus giving the enclosed dwarves the moment of reprise and space they needed to rally themselves. The circle first expanded and then exploded as the orcs were scattered even further by the dwarves they had been about to slaughter. Inside, Fili could see his brother, guarding a fallen man against the onslaught of two enemies.

“KILI!” 

He broke into a run and with a scream of fury and anguish charged right into one of the orcs, beheading him cleanly; just as behind him his brother fell down onto one knee. It was the split second of panic when he caught eye of Kili’s predicament that the other orc needed to retaliate.   
Fili felt at least one of his barely healed ribs break again under the impact of the war mace and couldn’t even scream as he stumbled, the air having been cleanly knocked out of him. He barely managed to block another swing just in time to avoid having his skull caved in when something hissed past him and suddenly an arrow protruded from the orc’s left eye socket, still quivering.

As the orc slowly crumpled to the ground Fili spun around again, forcing air into his tortured lungs.  
“Kili! Brother!”  
Kili, bow still in hand, laboured onto his feet and his pale, blood-smeared face suddenly lit up, his eyes widening. “Fili! Mahal, what are you doing here?”  
“Enjoying the scenery...” Fili’s grin died as he realised who it was that Kili had been protecting. “Uncle!”

Fili fell onto his knees beside Thorin with a grunt of pain. “Thorin! NO!”  
Thorin’s head fell to one side and his eyelids fluttered.  
“He still lives,” Kili gasped. “We have to get him out of here!”  
“No.” Fili shook his head as he looked at the broken blade protruding from Thorin’s abdomen. “We can’t.”

He laboriously got onto his feet again and looked at his brother. “He needs a healer who knows what to do about that blade. If we move him, he’ll likely die.” He looked back at Thorin and only now registered the body of the pale orc beside him.   
Kili swallowed. “But...”  
“He still lives,” Fili said and hefted his blades. “And so do we. With luck, the tides of the battle won’t turn against us. We stay with him. We will not allow that filth Azog to take Thorin with him.” His face was grimly set and when he looked at his brother, that expression was mirrored in the other’s face. 

As Kili shouldered his bow and picked up the sword he had dropped to shoot the arrow earlier, Fili caught side of Rurin pulling his lance free from the body of a fallen foe. He looked around, saw Fili and that he was guarding a fallen warrior, saluted him with his lance and trotted off after the other dwarves. Fili returned the salute and straightened up to stand guard over Thorin beside his brother, shoulder to shoulder.

* * *

The shadows grew longer and the light around them was changing colour when they suddenly heard Thorin speak, his voice hoarse with pain.

“Kili...”

Both of them turned around, yet Fili shook his head as he looked at his brother. _Speak to him_ , he gestured in Iglishmek. _He must not know I am here_.  
Kili almost flinched. “What?” _No_ , he gestured. _He needs to see you._  
 _If he sees me he might give up because he knows his heir is back_ , Fili gestured back. _Do not let him know I am here, and he will try to hold on, for Erebor._  
Kili looked back and forth between his brother and his uncle and, with a heavy sigh, knelt down beside Thorin.

“Yes, Uncle?”  
“Is...the battle.... lost?”  
“I don’t think so, Uncle. While we were standing guard here we only fought a few groups of stragglers. They seemed to be in a hurry to get away from us.”  
“Guard...? What are you...”  
“You, uncle. We are guarding the King under the Mountain.” Kili closed a hand around Thorin’s. “So you better hold on or this battle will have been for nothing.”  
Thorin stared into his nephew’s eyes and took a rasping, painful breath. “Erebor...”  
“Yes.” Kili smiled at him with forced cheerfulness. “Yes. Your throne is waiting, your highness. Just hold on!”  
Thorin closed his eyes again. “Have you heard...anything... about...”  
“About my brother?” Kili cast a hasty glance over his shoulder. “No,” he continued firmly. “I’m sorry, Uncle, but it’s you we need now, not Fili. It could be weeks yet before he returns...”

Thorin closed his eyes, bloody froth bubbling on his lips with every laborious breath.  
“Hold on, uncle,” Kili whispered. “Please, don’t leave us yet. Erebor needs you... and mother will skin us all alive if she comes here and finds you in a tomb.”

Thorin whispered the name of his sister, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth for the tiniest of moments.

Horns blared in the distance. The sound of other horns replied. 

“Who is sounding retreat?” Thorin rasped, his eyes springing open again.

Suppressing grunts of pain, Fili climbed atop the crumbling wall and looked around. The sun was low, hanging fat and red over the horizon as if it, too, had been feeding on all the blood that had been shed that day. A dark, orange glow flowed over the landscape, summoning the impossibly long, black shadows of dusk that looked like fingers groping for the dead and wounded. 

A single high-pitched keen of grief pierced the otherwise deafening silence and a few stragglers limped across the battlefield, looking like the souls of the dead who could not quite grasp the fact they were no longer living and tried to find their bodies to be able to go home.

“Is the battle over?” Kili called out to him, hovering over Thorin who had lost consciousness again. “Did we win?”

His eyes darting across the fields of battle littered with corpses, Fili shuddered. “I don’t know. I don’t know if anyone can claim victory over a battle like this, brother. But the fighting is over, it seems.”

* * *

Neither Fili nor Kili had moved from Thorin’s side when he had been brought to the healers’ tents; and after their own injuries had been taken care of, had waited at the entrance to the tent where Thorin was being treated until the elfish healer allowed them to come in.

“He is gravely wounded,” she said to them. “I did what I could for him. The only thing left to do is hope that he will be strong enough.” 

With that, she left the tent to take care of others that needed her, leaving Kili and Fili alone with Thorin in the tent. Both of them could hardly hold themselves upright, exhausted as they were.

Thorin was unconscious but alive, and in unspoken agreement the two brothers sat down on either side of the bedroll. They each took one of Thorin’s hands in theirs, and in silence they sat with him through the small hours of the night. Neither of them spoke a word in all that time, and only occasionally they would exchange a glance of resolve mixed with worry and tiredness.

But with sunrise, Thorin Oakenshield was still alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Remenu! Khayamu!_ – To Arms! To Victory!  
>  _Tan gamut wargai-menu_ – May a good death be upon you  
>  _Khayum Thane!_ – Victory for the King!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _[Mist Covered Mountains](www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbRSs0U7N80), written by Barry Taylor, lyrics slightly adapted by yours truly._

In the first two weeks following the battle it was Fili everyone turned to as Thorin was still unconscious and his life hanging by a thread. It was Fili who, despite his own injuries, had to oversee the cleaning of the battlefield although Balin, his brother and his cousin Daín assisted with that.

And it was Fili who had to negotiate the first, tentative attempts at diplomacy for peace and reparations, planting the tiny, tender seedlings of friendship and alliance into the blood-soaked soil of war and hatred.

Balin was at his side the whole time, guiding him and counselling him, and more than once he let the young prince know that he thought highly of him and his skills.

“Don’t you dare to think this is working,” Fili snapped at the older dwarf one night as they headed for his tent. “You can praise me all you like, but it isn’t working. I know what you are thinking. What you all are thinking.”  
“And what is it that I am thinking?” Balin’s voice was calm and almost gentle, his eyes betraying nothing.

“That you all doubt Thorin’s ability to rule,” Fili snarled. “That you do not trust him anymore after having seen him succumb to the dragon sickness. I know, I was not here, but my brother has told me all about it, and I trust his words as much as I do my own eyes. I say this now, and I say this only once.” His voice lowered into a dangerous growl. “I shall not take Thorin’s crown before he gives it to me, and I shall not go and try to persuade him to do so before the time he sees fit.”

Balin looked at Fili out of sorrowful eyes, a long, silent moment before the old warrior shook his head with a sigh. “You are shouting dragon where there is none, my prince. Yes, Thorin fell victim to the same madness that claimed his grandfather. Yes, it almost destroyed him, and us, who followed him. But in the end, he overcame it. He proved to be stronger than his curse, Fili, and we are all proud to call him our king. What under the earth made you think we would want you to succeed him before his time?”

Fili stared at his old mentor for a moment, and then shook his head. “Forgive me, Balin,” he said. “I have so much on my mind...I worry too much.”  
“Aye, that you do, my lad.” Balin placed a gentle hand onto Fili’s shoulder and blinked in surprise when the latter let his head fall forward with a tired groan.  
“I’m so tired,” Fili muttered. “I keep running around all day and keeping a straight face at the demands of elves and men alike... I broke my ribs twice in as many weeks and I feel the pain with every single breath...”  
“Then I beg your forgiveness, too, my prince,” Balin replied softly. “I did not allow myself to see that the battle has left its mark on you, too. Rest for a day or two, the negotiations can well wait that long.”

Fili nodded, his face deeply lined with tiredness and worry, and sank down onto his bedroll. He was asleep even before the old dwarf had left his tent.

When he awoke it was bright daylight outside, and Kili was sitting on his bedroll next to him, whittling on a piece of wood. But the moment Fili tried to sit up he dropped both the wood and the knife.

“Oh no, brother. You are to stay in bed. Strict orders from the royal steward. And I’m here to make sure that his orders are heeded.”  
“Royal steward?”Fili blinked sleepily.  
“That would be Master Balin,” Kili muttered in a conspiratorial tone, giving his brother a wink.  
Fili rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, brother, I just need to piss.”  
“Well, I guess having you widdle your pants like a dwarfling is not part of his plan. Come on.”

Kili helped him up and out of the tent, but also made sure he lay back down directly afterwards.

“I’ve got some good news, by the way,” Kili said conversationally as he picked up his piece of carving again. “Thorin woke up this morning, but according to Master Balin, no one is to see him yet apart from the healer because he is still very weak.” A shadow of worry flew over Kili’s otherwise cheerful features. “But he’s awake, and that’s a good sign, isn’t it?”  
“It sure is,” Fili replied and stared at the cloth of the tent above.  
“What is it?” Kili cocked his head, giving his brother a worried look.  
“I’m just tired. My ribs hurt, and my leg does, too, and I’ve talked to none but elves these last few days.”  
“Well, that explains it, then.”Kili pointed the knife at him. “No more elves for you.”  
“Gladly,” muttered Fili and closed his eyes. “I’d rather listen to Ori lecturing me about the virtues of different kinds of parchment for the rest of the day.”

Kili was just about to make a remark to that when the tent flap opened and someone outside said: “Quick! Hurry up!”

A group of dwarves, lead by Dwalin bearing a rather large backpack, hurried into the tent, the last being Bofur who dropped the flap behind him. Fili sat up with a confused look, letting his eyes roam over Bofur, Bifur, Dwalin, Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin and Gloin shuffling around, stepping on each other’s feet, grumbling and complaining and cursing until they finally had all seated themselves to their satisfaction in the small tent.

“What in all the...?” Fili cast a look at his brother, but Kili looked as perplexed as Fili was.

“We thought you could use a little distraction,” Dwalin said and produced a little barrel from his spacious pack. “And since none of us has had any chance to properly celebrate the fact we’re still alive we thought we’d take the chance.”  
Fili sat up with a smile, but then his eyes narrowed. “Where are the others?”  
“Well, Balin is fretting over Thorin, and not letting the tent out of sight,” Nori said.  
“And Bombur?”

A stony silence answered him before Dori spoke. “He... a warg got him and tore his right arm clean off, they said. He didn’t make it, we heard the news this morning.”

“And I can’t even make a song for him,” Bofur said finally into the despondent silence, his voice trembling. “I tried, but I can’t. He fell in battle, he was torn apart by wargs, but the truth is, he was always only...”

Bofur broke off, the sadness in his eyes so uncharacteristic and out of place for him that no one knew what to say.

“He was Bombur, the great,” Fili finally said. “And no matter what anyone thinks, make a song about him, Bofur. Make a song about Bombur the mighty, he who could devour whole mountains of food that would let a lesser dwarf despair. Let us remember Bombur as a dwarf who loved life and the good things it held in store. Surely he would not want us to lament his passing. He would want us to celebrate his life!”

At that, Nori produced a stack of earthenware cups and Dwalin proceeded to fill them all from his barrel. It was good, dark ale from the Iron Hills, and they drank the first to Bombur.  
The second, to all the others who had fallen.  
The third to the King’s health and recovery.

With the fourth, dedicated to Erebor and its glory to be restored, Bofur was already grinning again.  
“Give me a sausage as big as my arm... and a barrel of spirit to keep meself warm...” He wiped his eyes as the others laughed.

With nightfall Balin joined them, telling them that Thorin was on the mend, even if it would take some time yet until he would be fully recovered, he was out of immediate danger of dying. They emptied the barrel at midnight, and the healers who came to check on the prince the next morning were not a little baffled when, instead of two, they found eleven sleeping dwarves and an empty barrel in the small, two-person tent.

* * *

Within the next days, the dwarves began reclaiming Erebor. Tentatively at first, cautious, and more to assess the damage that Smaug had done during his time. But since the great wyrm had only been able to move about freely in the great, spacious main halls there was little damage to the galleries and hallways.

The first thing they did was gather up the dead that still lay scattered throughout the city; huddled mummified corpses in small side rooms and in collapsed halls where there had been no escape, charred and brittle skeletons wherever Smaug in his wrath had happened to encounter them.

It was a grim task, and it took far longer than anyone would have liked.

An abandoned mine shaft deep down in the mountain was used as their tomb, and it was on the day that this tomb was sealed, putting the last of the dead of the fallen of Erebor to rest, that Thorin left his sickbed for the first time. He was still pale and weak and leaned heavily on Dwalin for support, but his voice was strong when he spoke the final blessings.

“Rest now, for you have lain unburied long enough. Be at peace, for you have been avenged. Rejoice, for we have finally reclaimed what is ours and will restore what once was. You shall not be forgotten.”

Thorin’s words echoed through the silent caverns of old and the wind sighed as if the ancient dead finally breathed in relief. Not a few of the dwarfs in attendance shuddered at the sound.

It was good to be back in sun and daylight again after that, even for a dwarf.

Ori had been the last to leave the tomb, after having placed a handful of tiny autumn flowers and fragrant herbs in front of the tomb.  
Now he stood aside from the others, in tears but visibly struggling not to make a sound.

“Tears, lad?” Dwalin shook his head and grabbed his arm to pull the younger dwarf towards the fire where the others were sitting. “What good will tears do to those who’ve been dead longer than you’ve been alive?”  
“I’m... I’m sorry Mister Dwalin,” Ori muttered as he sat down beside his brother. “It’s just... In one of the upper galleries we found a small chamber and the door was blocked by a broken pillar. And inside... inside was the body of a woman and two children...” He swallowed audibly. “And she was cuddling them, but they both had their throats slit, and...” He shook his head. “They were so small... it was so terrible to look at.”  
Dori patted his brother’s shoulder. “Was it for them you put the flowers there?”  
Ori nodded silently, staring into the flames.

“Flowers...” Dwalin began, but Thorin sitting on a boulder rather than on the ground due to his wound, lifted his hand.  
“Leave him be, Dwalin,” he said. “Kindness is not a weakness, especially in times like these. Mahal knows there’s little enough of it in this world as it is.”

Fili tore his eyes away from the flickering flames and looked at Bofur. “Sing us a song,” he said. “Maybe something about... about coming home?”

Bofur thought for a while and then hummed a tune, a tune all of the dwarfs around the fire knew. One they had been weaned on, in the case of the younger ones, one that still carried memories of dragon fire and exile to the older ones.

_Oh ro soon shall I see them;_   
_Oh he ro see them oh see them._   
_Oh ro soon shall I see them the_   
_Mist covered mountains of home._

_There shall I visit the place of my birth_  
_And they'll give me a welcome the warmest on earth_  
 _All so loving and kind full of music and mirth,_  
 _In the sweet sounding language of home._

All the others joined him for the second chorus, clear tenors of the younger dwarfs mingling with the deep bass of the older.

_There shall I gaze on the mountains again,_   
_On the fields and the woods and the burns and the glens,_   
_Away 'mong the valleys beyond human ken_   
_In the caves of the deep I will roam_

_Hail to the mountains with summits of blue,_   
_To the caves with their jewels of red, white and blue._   
_To the women and men ever constant and true,_   
_Ever ready to welcome one home._

“How often have we not sat around a fire, in front of a hearth, and listened to this tune,” Thorin said softly. “And now we sit here at the very gates of that home we so have longed for. You all stood by me through my darkest hours, and I am proud that you are with me here today. May I never fail your trust again.”

Beads of wetness clung to his beard as he held out his arms. “Come to me, my sister-sons.”

Fili and Kili exchanged a glance before getting up, and both stepped towards the boulder Thorin was sitting on. He put an arm around each nephew and finally opened his eyes.

“I know, if only from hearsay, that you defended me with your lives out there.”  
“We couldn’t have done otherwise...” Kili interjected.  
“And that you, Fili, kept your presence a secret from me to make me hold on,” Thorin continued. “I know not if that was a necessary thing to do or not, but I appreciate the notion. Know this, my boys: I am proud of you, and I never could have loved you more than if you had been the fruit of my own loins.”

“Now those are the words of a true king!” Dwalin said and wiped his eyes.  
“Tears, lad?” Gloin teased and immediately ducked under the fake blow.  
“That’s nae tears, ye blockhead, it’s... it’s liquid pride!”

Everyone grinned or chuckled at that, and Thorin even grinned as he tousled his sister-sons’ hair. “Nori,” he called. “Find us something to drink to drive the damp cold from our bones and the gloom out of our minds! Bofur, another tune if you please, but something merrier!”

The only lasting drop of bitterness was the empty space in their midst and the mug sitting there that no one emptied.


	9. Chapter 9

The battle had taken place six weeks ago and Fili by now had the last of his bandages removed. He approached the chamber in which Thorin, who himself was far from being fully healed, had taken up residence. The door stood open and Fili stepped in.

“Thorin,” he began, and Thorin, who had been brooding over ancient maps with Balin, looked up at his nephew, a pleased smile on his face.  
“Fili! We were just talking about you. Come here.”

Fili stepped towards the table where Thorin and Balin were sat; the maps being ones of Erebor from the old days.

“Where did you find these?” He reverently traced his finger across one piece of ancient, brittle parchment.  
“We were in the Archives, down in the Halls of Wisdom,” Balin replied. “To find they had not been touched since Smaug. Everything is still there, and I must say, I think Ori has developed his own special kind of dragon sickness right now. He’s up to his ears in dusty old books and cobwebs and tattered parchments and ink and quills.”  
Thorin chuckled briefly. “It won’t be long before he can recite everything that happened in this city that ever mattered.”  
“And half the things that don’t,” Balin added.

Fili chuckled as well and leaned over the map. “You sent for me, uncle?”  
“Yes, since I had no intention to inform our people of news as grave as this that I would merely send them a letter, or even a messenger,” Thorin said after looking up at him, the humour gone from his eyes. “You, Fili, shall go to Ered Luin as a prince of Erebor, and bring our people home. Right now, the roads and the passes are still free and travelling is easy.”  
Fili took a deep breath. “I will certainly do that, but...”  
“But? Would you put your mother and all of the others through another winter of waiting? I think they have waited long enough as it is.”  
“Doubtlessly,” Fili said. “And I will certainly go, and with haste. It’s just that I have a promise of my own to tend to.”  
“And what kind of promise could be so vital that it was of more importance than the end of the long exile of your own people?”

Fili licked his lips. “I never said it was,” he replied. “But I have promised Katla I would return for her to end her exile of loneliness as well...”  
“Katla?” Thorin tilted his head. “Oh, was that the healer we left you with? Don’t worry about her, nephew. She will receive her due reward, I have no intention of sneaking out of the debt I owe her.” Thorin’s voice was calm, but his eyes gazed into Fili’s with an intensity that allowed no objection. 

Fili bowed his head. “I am as good as gone, then. But I gather we will not make it back before the mountain passes become impassable with the winter snows.”  
“No, most likely not.” Thorin nodded. “Use the winter to prepare for the road and set off as soon as the roads are sufficiently clear. We shall await your return around Spring Equinox.”  
Fili bowed again. “Is there anything else? A message to your sister, maybe?”  
“No.” Thorin smiled again. “I have faith that you know full well what you need to tell her. Safe travels.”

Fili bowed again and turned away, only to be stopped by Thorin’s voice a final time.

“Oh, and Fili?”  
He turned around again. “Yes?”  
“Take your brother with you. He’s spending far more time with the elves than I’m comfortable with.”

Fili bowed his head a final time and headed down the slope to find Kili. A deep frown settled onto his forehead as he began to look for his brother.

* * *

“Spending too much time with elves...” Kili rolled his eyes in mock anger. “I was trying to learn something about them!”  
Fili couldn’t help but chuckle. “I think he imagined you trying to learn how to get into their pants, first and foremost.”  
“What?” Kili snorted, this time in honest bafflement, and his pony snorted as if in reply. 

It was a good day to travel, the skies were clear and the roads dry. Riding side by side the two brothers guided their ponies westward, for Ered Luin. 

“Trying to...,” Kili muttered. “There’s but one of them where I... well, what you just said. Only she’s not that interested in me, and that’s that. Apart from that, I’ve really only tried to understand these people.” He looked up, and gave Fili an almost pleading look. “Honestly!”  
Fili had to laugh. “Now you remind me of that little boy who tried to convince me it wasn’t him who had eaten half of mother’s apple pie.”  
“But that hadn’t been me, either!”  
“Oh come on.” Fili grinned, and his brother returned the grin. “Next you’re telling me it was the cat.”  
“Feee...” Kili wailed in a childish pout, and both brothers burst out laughing.

“Feels good to be on the road with you,” Kili said after a while. “I could almost pretend all that business never happened and we’re just out hunting in the hills.”  
“Well, I guess those carefree days are going to be over once we are really moving into Erebor and will be crowned as princes,” Fili mused and rolled his shoulders.   
“Maybe, and maybe not.” A glint of mischief shone in Kili’s eyes. “But if uncle thinks that he can lock me away underground like the contents of his treasury he’s mistaken.”  
“It’s more the being ordered around that worries me. I’m already on the brink of breaking my own promise because of this...” He broke off and pressed his lips together.

Kili reined his pony a little closer, all mirth gone from his eyes. “Brother? You all right?”  
Fili cast a glance at his brother. “I... I guess I can tell you.”  
Worry in his hazel eyes, Kili nodded solemnly.

“I... I promised Katla I’d come back for her,” Fili finally said. “But Thorin is right of course, and the fate of all our people is more important than that...” He frowned at his saddle horn and sighed.  
“Hey.” Kili nudged Fili’s foot with his. “You can still go to her after we’re back, can’t you?”  
“Of course I can, and I will. And even though I didn’t promise her I’d be back before winter... or whenever, it still... it doesn’t sit right with me. She’s all alone out there, and while I was there, there was a pack of orcs and they... they just didn’t see the door, is all.”  
“I see why you’re worried,” Kili gave back. 

They rode in silence for a while until Kili spoke again. “She did a damn good job stitching that wound. I thought you’d be left with a brute of a scar.”  
Absentmindedly, Fili emitted an affirmative hum.  
“And she saved your hair, too,” Kili continued, his tone lightening. “I must admit I wouldn’t mind having those fingers threaded in my hair at one point.”

Fili’s shoulders stiffened.

Chattering brightly, Kili was unaware of his brother’s darkening look. “I must also admit I was a little gobsmacked when I realised she wasn’t a human. Didn’t expect to find one of our kind all alone that far from any mountain. Still, a rare gem, isn’t she? And those gentle hands... she bound the arrow wound on my leg, and I couldn’t help but think what her legs would look like without...”

Kili’s back hit the dusty road and with an angry grunt, Fili had jumped out of the saddle too and hauled his brother up again by the yokes before Kili had even had a chance to get his wind back.

“Don’t you dare talk about her that way!” Their noses almost touched and Fili’s eyes were glowing with fury. “Don’t you dare talk about her that way ever again!”

Kili swallowed drily and nodded. With a huff, Fili let him go and spun around. 

“Sorry, brother,” he said after a moment in a small voice. “I... I don’t know what got into me.”  
Kili straightened his armour and smoothed his hair back before taking a cautious step towards his brother.  
“No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I should not have spoken about her that way, no matter what.”  
Fili turned around to look at him, and when their eyes met, Kili pressed his lips together.  
“I promised,” Fili said after a few heartbeats. “Brother, I’m so worried...”  
Kili draped an arm around his shoulders. “Then let’s get this over with. The sooner we get back, the sooner you can bring her home.”

They mounted in silence and did not speak again before making camp that night, but by then the feelings had eased between them.

* * *

Snow came early that year and the Durin brothers had a hard time crossing the Misty Mountains. Thus it was that they first arrived in Ered Luin at the day of the Midwinter Celebration; freezing, hungry and tired and caked with wet snow. Both ponies and riders slumped with tiredness as they finally reached their destination.

The first one to lay eyes on them as they stumbled towards the caves was Dafur the blacksmith, and he ushered them into his workshop even before he had recognised them.

“Dreadful weather to be about,” the blacksmith said as he shoved a small foot bench towards the blazing forge. “Jora! Bring ale for these poor men!”

His wife hurried in with the ale and the blacksmith proceeded to stick a glowing poker into each tankard to warm the ale before handing it out to the freezing dwarves huddled on the bench. 

“What under the earth makes you travel at this time of year? Where do you come from?” The blacksmith inquired as the two brothers closed their stiffened, bluish fingers around the warm tankards.

After the first sip, Fili shook his woollen hood off and gave the blacksmith a grateful smile. “News from the east, friend Dafur.”

Kili slipped his hood back as well, and the blacksmith and his wife exchanged a wide-eyed look.

“Bless my beard,” the hardened craftsman said with moisture in his eyes. “It’s the Durin boys...”  
“What news?” his wife fell in, her voice shaking. “What news from the east?”  
Fili took a sip of ale. “Good news, friend blacksmith. Good news.” He took another sip to warm his lips and Kili went on for him.  
“Erebor is won,” Kili said, smiling smugly at the blacksmith’s stunned expression. “We can go home.”

Upon hearing these words, the blacksmith, so hardened by years of work that he seemed more like a product of his own craft, dropped the poker, buried his face in his hands and began to weep uncontrollably. 

His wife slung her arms around him and said almost apologetically: “I have no ken about Erebor but from the old tales. But Dafur was born there although he was but a lad when the dragon took it.”

The brothers nodded and occupied themselves with their ale to allow the blacksmith to get his composure back, exchanging a secret smile.

“Feels good to be the bearer of such good news,” Kili whispered to his brother, and Fili nodded in agreement.   
“Blessed and twice blessed be this day!” The blacksmith wiped his eyes and smoothed down his beard. “May your beards forever grow, lads!”

With that, he left his workshop and hurried towards the entrance of the cavern, Kili and Fili following him.

“Feels like a lifetime we’ve been away,” Kili whispered as he had a look around in the large, low hall with its countless side caverns that housed shops, workshops and family homes. In the centre of the main hall a few men and women were just finishing the last preparations for the Midwinter Celebration, arranging tables and benches around the, as of yet, unlit fire pit.  
“It does,” his brother confirmed. “And it’s only been what? Half a year and a little more, and I already feel like a stranger after having set foot into Erebor.”  
“Just think if you’d been born there,” Kili replied thoughtfully.  
Fili could only shrug.

“Listen!” The blacksmith now hollered across the cave, his mighty chest giving his voice the force required to reach even the farthest corner. “Listen up! The Durin brothers are back!”  
Heads flew around, doors opened, and more and more people began to appear on doorsteps and galleries.

“Listen! News from the East!!” The blacksmith continued, his voice echoing in the cave. “EREBOR IS WON! THE DURIN BROTHERS HAVE COME TO TAKE US HOME!”

As the two brothers then crossed the cave there was not a single man or woman who did not try to touch their hands and a thousand times the questions arose what had happened, what would happen, and how many losses there were to mourn.   
And Kili and Fili answered dutifully and patiently that all questions would be answered and the tale be told after the lighting of the midwinter fire.

After having reached their destination, one of the larger family homes at the very back of the hall, Fili raised his hand and knocked. The door was opened by a woman with raven-black hair, yet her temple braids were laced with a little silver. She looked haughtily at the two young dwarf warriors standing at her doorstep, her face chiselled from stone; but when Kili held out the black rune stone to her with a hesitant smile on his lips her face turned to living flesh and blood. 

She stared at the stone and took it, her hand slightly trembling as she did so. When she looked up again tears were spilling from her eyes, and with a small sob she dropped the stone and fell into Kili’s arms. 

Kili clamped his arms around her. “I’m home, _Amad_. Just like I promised I would.”  
“I did not allow myself to believe you could hold to it, _banô-ê_. I dared not to hope.”  
Dís freed herself from Kili’s embrace and slung her arms around Fili now who returned the embrace. “ _Dashatê_...”  
“We are well, amad. And so is uncle Thorin. He sent us to take you home. All of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Amad_ – mother  
>  _banô-ê_ – my treasure  
>  _dashatê_ – my son


	10. Chapter 10

Taking to the road on foot or on the back of ponies was one thing, travelling from the Blue Mountains to Erebor with a trek of hundreds of people laden with their belongings and with carts, drawn by livestock or dragged by hand, was an entirely different kind of journey. 

No matter how much the Durin brothers and their mother lashed their people on, and no matter how much these people wanted to move faster, there was always a wagon wheel broken, a pony lame, or a hundred other things, and it got exceedingly difficult to feed their people on the journey.  
Due to the long, hard winter and the late snowmelt up in the mountains, Spring Equinox had been all too optimistic an estimate by Thorin; it was already early summer when they had finally left the High Pass behind and looked out over Mirkwood Forest. 

As the tired dwarrow then headed north to round the woods, Dís was more than once reminded of the trek of sorrow-laden refugees fleeing from the mountain so many years ago; but this time, the faces of her people, as tired and hungry as they were, were lit with hope. No matter what hardships they had gone through and would yet face, they were going home.

No one but the children was complaining, and the children could certainly not be blamed for crying of tiredness and hunger and whining about aching feet and legs. Dís herself did what she could to comfort cranky young ones and Fili and Kili had long since dismounted and packed their ponies with as many dwarflings as the beasts could carry. 

The only comfort was that at least now, after crossing the Misty Mountains, the ground was more level and the going easier on both beast and dwarf. Also, after the great battle, neither goblins nor orcs haunted the hills and northern plains. The dwarrow were faced with few attacks, and none of them claimed any lives but those of the attackers. 

With the days growing longer and the nights becoming milder, they passed through the valleys between the Grey Mountains and Mirkwood until on one glorious day, the land opened before them and they could finally lay eyes on the northern plains of Rhovanion. In the east, the Iron Hills rose like a jagged, grey wall against the misty horizon. And before them, rising up from the plains, was the Lonely Mountain.

Cries of victory rang out and mingled with sobs of joy as the dwarrow finally laid eyes on their destination, new to most of them but their ancient, long lost home to those old enough to remember. It took a while to get their caravan going again.

Dís was standing still as a stone as the first carts and people began to pass her by and as Fili stopped beside her she squared her shoulders, fighting for composure. He laid a hand on her shoulder and she closed her own around it.

“It has been so long,” she whispered. “I had stopped believing I would see this day. Long ago I had given up hope to see my home again.”

Fili opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything they all heard hoof beats coming closer. Kili instantly dropped his reins and reached for his bow.

A rider appeared before them and waved. “Ered Luin!” he hollered. “Ered Luin!”

Fili and Kili exchanged a grin; it was Nori on that pony, unmistakable by his hairstyle. Yet before they could even wave back he had turned his mount and was galloping away as if the gates of Mordor were opening up behind him.

“I guess that was our welcoming committee,” Kili said drily.

Dís shook herself out of her reverie and took a deep breath. “It is not far now,” she said. “Not far at all.”

* * *

Only hours later they heard more hoof beats, but a lot of them this time. And when the group of riders, five in all, topped a rise and came into view, Dís stopped dead in her tracks when she realised who was leading them.

“Brother,” she breathed. “Thorin!”

Fili and Kili exchanged a grin of relief when Thorin, followed by Balin, Dwalin, Bifur and Bofur, headed for his sister in a straight gallop only to halt and dismount shortly before they would have collided. He jumped out of the saddle and the second his feet touched the ground, his sister had launched herself into his arms.

“Thorin,” she whispered into his shoulder as he held her as tightly as he could. “My brother. My king.”  
“I am not king yet,” he muttered into her hair. “But I’m a good bit closer to it than I was last time we spoke.”

She looked up at him, her face wet with tears, and ran a hand down his cheek. Then she took a deep breath, turned her head and shouted at the top of her lungs so that even the ones in the very last ranks could hear her.

“THE KING HAS COME TO TAKE HIS PEOPLE HOME!”

The cheering was deafening.

With a smile and the shine of moisture in his own eyes Thorin then lifted his sister into his saddle and mounted behind her. And with their strength seemingly magically restored upon the sight of their King and their home, the dwarrow of Ered Luin marched off again, no one complaining, no one slugging behind, and they reached the gates of Erebor shortly after midnight. No one would have taken a break and waited until daylight to continue their journey, not for all treasures in the world.

* * *

Too tired to celebrate their arrival, Kili and Fili had let themselves fall into a corner that night and had passed out almost instantly. When they awoke, in an awkward heap of limbs – they hadn’t fallen asleep like this since they had been children – they first untangled themselves, slightly embarrassed, and then groggily began the search for breakfast.

The people of Ered Luin had set up camp on the field below the entrance of Erebor, amidst now peacefully grazing livestock and happily playing children. Several cooking fires held the promise of sustenance; as it turned out the dwarves of Erebor had been hunting and foraging during the last weeks of autumn and winter, and they still had plenty to eat.

“There’s Bofur’s hat,” Kili pointed out.   
Fili, even more bleary-eyed than his brother, simply nodded and followed him down the rise. 

Bofur greeted them with the biggest smile he could have possibly managed.

“Morning, lads! Good to see you about, and welcome back!”  
“Morning Bofur,” Fili replied, audibly stretching his stiff joints. “I see you have already eaten?”  
“Oh, we have, but we’ve kept plenty for you. We knew you were bound to wake up at some point.”

The two brothers thankfully accepted the plates that were filled with strips of fried meat and the flat, cracker-like bread made not from flour but starchy roots. 

“Get yourselves some eggs!”Someone from the fire called. “Sunny side up?”

His mouth full and his mind still addled with lingering tiredness, Kili held up his plate and a fried egg came sailing in an elegant trajectory, landing right on it. He started to mutter his thanks out of reflex when finally, his brain caught up with the events. 

“Thanks, Bomph...” He got the bread down the wrong way and coughed viciously while Fili put down his plate and slowly got onto his feet.

“Bombur?” He asked slowly as he stepped towards the fire. “But here I thought...”

The big dwarf turned away from his pan and wiggled a large spoon at him. Shrunken to almost half his formerly enormous size, and devoid of the middle part of his thick, long braid that obviously had been hacked off; but Bombur it was, and he was very much alive.

“Ah, well, sorry to have scared you all.” Bombur gave back with his usual, good-natured grin. “Seems like the elfish healers can’t tell one fat, red haired dwarf from the other. They got us mixed up.” He reached behind him and held out a large frying pan. “Eggs?”  
“Mahal’s Balls, Bombur!” Fili felt an idiotic grin spread on his face upon seeing the big dwarf alive after all. “Put the kitchenware down and give us a hug, you bugbear!”  
“Aw, come here, laddie!” 

Bombur slammed the pan onto his makeshift table and hurried around it to heed to Fili’s request. Kili, who had by now managed to dislodge the crumb in his windpipe, joined them and with hearty screams of joy Bombur clamped one arm around each Durin brother and, to the amusement of all the others around them, lifted them off the ground and swirled them around as if they were still little dwarflings not more than half his height.

Laughing and stumbling, the brothers caught their breath back and continued with their breakfast, listening to Bofur playing his flute.

“Should’ve thought something was amiss when that Bofur gave us a grin that would’ve split his head in half but for his hat,” Fili muttered, still grinning.  
Kili chortled under his breath and finished his last piece of egg. 

As it turned out they had pipe weed, too, and Bofur had proudly declared that this was one of the benefits of being a member of the Company. 

Kili and Fili exchanged a puzzled glance. “The what now?” Kili asked.  
“The... Company,” Bofur repeated with a wink. “Didn’t take long for that to become a fixed expression.”  
“A fixed expression for what?” Fili leaned back and puffed a little smoke.  
“Us!” Bofur gestured around the fire. “Those of us what signed the contract, Thorin and Company!”  
“And the way they say it... The Company,” Dori said with a chuckle. “So reverential.”  
“Oh,” Nori said in a terrible falsetto, feigning awe. “There’s Nori, he’s one of ... The Company!”

The Durin brothers exchanged another look and grinned. 

“But I guess, well you’ve had that all your lives, being treated like that,” Nori said. “What with being princes and all.”  
Fili took the pipe out of his mouth. “I don’t remember being treated very princely after having been caught... back when you’d managed to talk us into stealing the tanner’s apples.”  
“Well, if your backside hurt as much as mine did, then you surely haven’t!” Nori gave back with laughter into which the others quickly joined.

* * *

It had been a quiet day, the sky clear and the sun mild, and with a spring in his steps and a smile on his face Fili took leave of his brother in the late afternoon to talk to Thorin.

The future king was inside the city in the room he had declared his study and was reading letters when Fili entered. 

“Welcome back, nephew!” Thorin discarded his correspondence and met Fili halfway to embrace him heartily. “It is so very good to see you!”  
“It’s good to see you too.” Fili cleared his throat. “I come with a request, uncle.”  
Thorin raised his eyebrows. “And that would be?”  
“I would like to honour the promise I gave last autumn and fetch... the herb woman. I’m sure we could use someone as skilled as her.”

“I believe that as well, but...” Thorin laid a hand on Fili’s arm. “Not now, I’m afraid. Dís and I have been planning the coronation ceremony and decided it shall be at Midsummer’s Eve. We have a lot of invitations to deliver, a lot of things to plan and organize. I’m afraid I can’t let you go running off into the countryside just now, Fili. After the coronation, go with my blessing. But not before, I have need of you.”  
Fili inclined his head, arranging his face into a careful, mask to hide his frustration. “As you see fit, of course. May I ask for permission to send her at least a messenger?”

Thorin slowly narrowed his eyes. “I’d rather you think about your priorities, my prince.” The last two words had been spoken in a very clipped, harsh voice. “We are talking about the coronation, mine and yours, too. You are the marked prince, Fili, and this will be the final act of reclaiming our homeland. Think about all the blood that has been spilled to make this possible and not a... a woman you have taken a fancy to!”  
Fili swallowed and nodded. “My apologies.” Then he bowed somewhat stiffly and left again, his steps markedly slower and heavier than when he had come in. 

Thorin sat down and slowly shook his head as he watched his nephew leave before focussing on his documents again.

* * *

Kili found his brother sitting on the lower flank of the mountain, his knees drawn up and his arms slung around them, watching the sun set behind the forest. He silently sat down beside him and after looking at his brother’s unmoving face for a while, Kili emitted a frustrated sigh.

“He won’t let you go.”  
It wasn’t a question, and Fili didn’t answer.  
“Do you think I could go, even if just to tell her you’re all right and haven’t forgotten her?”  
“I asked that as well,” Fili replied. “He chastised me for having the wrong priorities. I should focus on the coronation, he said. He won’t let anyone go on that errand.”

Kili plucked a blade of grass and twirled it between his fingers. “I’m sure she’s fine,” he said after a while. “I mean, orcs and goblins have been wiped out, here and in the hills surrounding. She shouldn’t be in any danger.”  
Fili exhaled slowly. “But is he right? Do I have the wrong priorities?”  
“How am I to know that?” Kili cast the blade of grass away.  
“He told me I should think of all the blood that has been spilled to make that day possible and not a woman I’ve taken a fancy to.”  
Kili looked at his brother again. “And... have you?”  
“Have I what?”  
“Taken a fancy to her?”

Fili dropped his head forward and emitted a mirthless little chuckle. “I wouldn’t call it that.”  
“Did anything... you know... happen?”  
At that, Fili lifted his head again to look at his brother. “Everything happened, brother. And now...” He stared ahead again into the sinking sun. “I never thought I’d say that, but... I miss her,” he whispered. 

Kili moved a little closer and put an arm around his brother’s shoulders. They sat in silence until the sun had vanished and left them in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Haha, got you, didn’t I? But I said no one dies!_


	11. Chapter 11

The weeks leading up to the coronation passed in a flurry of activities. The halls and galleries had to be swept and cleaned, invitations had to be sent, and Thorin, Kili and Fili mostly spent the time in Thorin’s study together with Balin and Ori. The latter because he was the one having found every old text and scripture regarding the coronation rituals in the history of Erebor, the former because he would oversee the coronation as Master of Ceremony due to him being the most experienced of Thorin’s trusted companions.

And yet, not everything would happen as described in the lore of old. The line of Durin might not have been broken, Thorin had said, but it was a new beginning nonetheless, and while he would gladly carry the torch handed to him by his forefathers, he had no intention of carrying every single one of their burdens, too. Times change, he had said, and we with them.

Thus it was that the most skilled gold- and silversmiths had crafted a new crown for Thorin, one that was less massive than Thror’s, one that shone with the beauty of perfect craftsmanship and not due to being studded with gemstones, the true wealth of the dwarrow and something that could never be taken away from them.   
That crown, together with a similar golden one that was slightly thinner and lighter and a twin to it that was crafted in silver, now sat on a cushion in Thorin’s study where he and his princes spent the time memorising and practising their words, oaths and moves to perfection. 

“He is driving me mad” Kili complained one evening to his brother after they had been given leave to find themselves some supper.   
“He is driving everyone around him mad,” Fili replied. “He’s waited for almost two hundred years for this moment, and he wants it to be perfect.”  
“I know.” Kili scratched his cheek. “I know.”  
“I just hope and pray to Mahal that everything goes according to his plans” Fili said darkly. “I don’t want to be anywhere near him if even the tiniest thing should go awry.”  
Kili cast his brother an unhappy look, a look that Fili mirrored.

* * *

As with the lengthening days the day of the coronation drew nearer and nearer, the guests slowly began to arrive, and the first ones that Thorin welcomed happily into his halls were Gandalf and Bilbo who had arrived together. 

A few days later Lord Elrond arrived with an entourage of sixteen, but rather than stay inside the halls of Erebor, the elves of Rivendell erected a group of elegant, snow-white tents close to the entrance of the city.

The Men Thorin had invited were staying in Dale that they had started to rebuild after the battle and the reclaiming of Erebor and thus needed no quarters. 

The dwarrow of the Blue Mountains and of the Iron Hills had their quarters in the best and cleanest part of the city of which the maps told that those had once been the halls of high ranking royal guards. 

Yet if Thranduil of the Woodland Realm would come, no one yet knew. Thorin had sent both Fili and Kili there, his princes, to let Thranduil know he was being serious with his desire for peace between the two kingdoms, but they had come back with neither a yes or no from the elven king.

The evening before Midsummer’s Day, Thorin stood one last time before the throne he remembered his grandfather sitting upon. 

They had been forced to move it as the delicate pillars that had supported it had been badly damaged during Smaug’s reign; now it stood on a dais at the far end of the Gallery of the Kings, a fitting place, everyone had agreed upon. Since the failed attempt to smother Smaug with molten gold had coated the floor with a thick layer of the precious metal, the location for the throne seemed more perfect than anyone could have imagined before they had moved it. 

Thorin Oakenshield, former exiled prince and soon to be King under the Mountain, stared at his forefathers’ throne with a deeply furrowed forehead and emitted a deep sigh that heaved his shoulders. Then he left, his hands crossed at his back, and slowly headed for the Halls of Wisdom where he and his princes would hold their vigil until sunrise after a day of fasting. 

“I am prepared,” he whispered. “Mahal help me, I have done everything in my power to prepare myself. Mahal, let it be sufficient.”

Everything and everyone was in place now, and in the suspense of the last day before the coronation of the new King under the Mountain, even the mountain himself seemed to hold his breath.

* * *

Midsummer’s day came with a sunrise of crimson and gold, promising fair weather and a cloudless sky. Everyone was all too ready to accept this as a good sign.

Horns blared in the deep, echoing through the halls and caverns, and at that Thorin and his heirs got up to end their vigil that they had spent on their knees in the darkness, each of them in front of a single candle. 

Dwalin entered their hall, dressed in finery that was as unfamiliar on him to look at as it seemed uncomfortable for him to wear. But he wordlessly stepped towards Thorin, carrying his garments, and helped him put these on while Dori did the same for Fili and Bofur for Kili. 

Then the six of them headed for the Gallery of Kings accompanied by the Drum of the Ancients, a gigantic instrument located deep in the halls of Wisdom that sounded like the heartbeat of the mountain himself.  
Stepping across the golden floor towards the throne they passed the ranks of the honoured guests, their companions taking up their places among them, until at last they halted in front of the throne with Thorin in front of the steps, Fili on his right and Kili to his left. 

To the right of the throne was a rectangular, polished block of stone upon which the pillow with the crowns were resting; beside it stood Balin, fine beads of gold tied to the tips of his beard, looking at them with his eyes brimming with moisture. Dís stood at his side, but she made no attempt to hide her tears although otherwise, her face showed no emotion at all.

The drumbeats stopped, Thorin and his heirs sank to their knees and the silence seemed to come alive with the weight of past, present and future.

After a few moments Balin now stepped forth, his long and heavy coat of black fur trailing behind him, on his breast a golden amulet in the shape of a triangle, a symbol of the Mountain, both representing his status as Master of Ceremony. 

He spoke at length in Khuzdul, his voice reaching into the farthest corner, and after a moment’s pause, he repeated these words in the common tongue.

“Two hundred years ago, the mighty kingdom of Erebor fell. Two hundred years ago, we lost our home, our past and our future. For two hundred years, we have mourned our loss, and for two hundred years, we have yearned to return. Many of us had lost their hopes that this day would ever come. But there was one...”

His voice the tiniest bit shaky, Balin paused and took a deep breath before he continued.

“There was one who would not give up hope. There was one who had the strength and the will to do what no one had dared. He was the last of the line of Durin, the last prince of Erebor. A prince in exile of a people brought low, but his spirit was never broken, his sword had never failed. And now, after two hundred years, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, has returned to reclaim what is rightfully his. The crown of the King under the Mountain. The crown of Erebor.”

Then he walked back to the altar and picked up the crown, and in slow, measured steps, back to Thorin, holding the crown out to him.

It was Thorin who now raised his voice.

“I, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, hereby swear that I will uphold the rule in this kingdom with the virtues of leadership. Justice. Honour. Loyalty. Honesty. Generosity. These shall be the lights to guide my way, the lodestones that show my path and the weaponry I shall wield. So I swear, by my blood and the blood of my people and by the roots of the mountain.”

With that, he closed his eyes and Balin slowly lowered the crown onto Thorin’s head. When Balin stepped back, Thorin opened his eyes and rose. 

“All hail Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain!” Balin called, and the dwarrow answered him as one.

“Hail Thorin, King under the Mountain!” It was a roar that could have shaken the mountain itself.

It was Thorin who then took the oaths from his heirs; he then placed the golden crown on Fili’s head and the silver one on Kili’s. 

Yet before Thorin finally took his place on his throne, he waved at Dwalin who now came forth, bearing a small pillow with a delicate, golden tiara adorned with one large and three smaller emeralds.

“Sister” Thorin said and held out his hand.  
Dís stepped towards Thorin, her whole posture straight and regal. “My King?”  
“Although it has been almost two hundred years, I still remember the title you bore. You shall have it again, my sister.” He raised his voice. “Lady Dís of Erebor, you were known and shall once again be known as the Emerald Princess.” He took the tiara and slowly placed it onto Dís head, a gentle smile on his face.  
“And let it be known that until Erebor has a queen once more, it will be the Emerald Princess who will hold the Queen’s Court as the Dowager Queen of Erebor.”

The cheering that followed echoed through the mountain and was audible even outside the great gates and for a moment, Thorin allowed himself to bask in the adoration of his people before he lifted his hands to silence them.

Gandalf was the first to step free from the ranks of onlookers.

“King Thorin” he said, inclining his head. “First, let me bring tidings from Beorn whom you so graciously invited. He asked me to bring you his gratitude, but he also said that knowing him, you would understand why he chose not to attend.”  
“I do” Thorin said with a smile.  
“But,” Gandalf went on and waved at someone in the crowd, “he sends you his congratulations and this gift.”

Nori stepped forward and laid at Thorin’s feet a huge, snow-white bear pelt, tanned to perfection. It was lush and thick, and the skin was so soft that it could be used as a blanket.

Thorin looked at Gandalf and nodded. “Tell him I thank him from the bottom of my heart for this gift.”

“And this,” Gandalf went on, “is a gift from me, your majesty.” And he handed Thorin a flat, polished stone that easily fitted into the King’s palm. “If you ever find yourself worrying over a problem and unable to get it off your mind, close your fingers around this stone and let it’s smoothness calm your soul.”  
“Thank you, Gandalf the Grey. I gather there will be no small amount of things to worry about coming my way.”

With a flourished bow, Gandalf stood back again.

Next came a slightly nervous Bilbo.

“Your majesty...” He bowed and cleared his throat. “What can I say... you know me. I am a simple hobbit from the Shire, and I am sure there are not many gifts the Shirefolk could give that are worthy of a King, but...” He broke off with a smile and dug into his pack. “But the one thing I am sure is worthy of a King is a bag of Horfindle Gold.” He handed Thorin a small leather pouch, tastefully decorated with embroidery. “You won’t find a better pipe weed this side of the borders of the Shire, or anywhere else.”  
“My heartfelt thanks, Master Baggins,” Thorin said, and for the first time that day his smile let the wrinkles around his eyes disappear. 

Bilbo bowed again, then produced two more bags like the one he had handed Thorin which he offered to the princes. He was rewarded with warm smiles for his gesture.

Bilbo padded back to Gandalf’s side and took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. Gandalf patted his shoulder with a benevolent smile.

The next was Lord Elrond who brought Thorin the congratulations of the Eldar. 

“I, too, have a gift for you, Thorin, son of Thrain” Elrond said slowly. “And although I know that there has been unease between us, I hope that this gift will be received well, and the manner in which it was given understood.” 

He nodded at his entourage and two of his elfish guards stepped towards the throne, carrying something wrapped in blue silk.

“Our hunters found it in the mountains, not far from a hidden entrance to the goblin caverns,” Elrond said and cast Thorin a knowing look who, in turn, leaned slightly forward, eyebrows lifted.

Elrond then removed the cloth to reveal an elongated shield. The centre was aged oak wood, but the elfish smiths of Rivendell had set it into a frame of steel inlaid with gold. Using a style that was neither elfish or dwarrow they had created a beautiful piece of armour that despite its look was more than just decoration, but it was still and unmistakably the oaken branch that Thorin had carried ever since the Battle of Azanulbizar.

Thorin took a deep breath and bowed his head before looking at Elrond again. “A great and thoughtful gift, Mylord Elrond” he said gravely. “You have my deepest and most heartfelt thanks.”

Elrond likewise bowed his head and stood back again, his guards at his side.

The dwarrow of the Iron Hills came with gold, gemstones and mithril, the ones of Ered Luin came with weapons crafted with such skill that they were fit for a king, even without inlaid gold or gemstones. 

Bard from the folk of Men offered the alliance and the friendship of Dale, together with a dozen of the finest, strongest bows made from yew, fitted in their length for the dwarrow folk. 

Thorin thanked them accordingly and was about to call an end to the ceremonies when the doors at the other end of the gallery opened.

A figure clad in white and silver entered, tall and slim, and he was accompanied by a group of elves dressed in green. He walked up to the throne and stopped, looking Thorin straight in the eyes.

“Thranduil” Thorin said, inclining his head. “Welcome to my halls, King of the Woodland Realm.”  
Thranduil inclined his head as well. “My thanks, King under the Mountain, for inviting me to attend.”

The kings looked at one another, and the age-old hatred and enmity enveloped them like an aura of ill-will.

It was Thorin who finally broke the silence. “Long ago, in bygone ages, there was friendship between our people, but only old scriptures remember this now.”  
Thranduil lifted one eyebrow. “I remember.”  
“Dwarrow memory does not reach that far back” Thorin gave back. “But despite not being as long lived as you and yours we have our way to ensure things are not forgotten. I know of the old friendship. And I know why it broke, although I am sure that your accounts differ from what our scholars have written down.”  
“I am sure they do.” Thranduil did not move a muscle in his face. 

“I know a hatred as old as this cannot easily be cast aside.” Thorin went on. “But since I have sworn not to repeat old mistakes of the past and to learn from my forefathers’ failures, I will extend my hand to you so that one day, peace and prosperity can abound between our people.”

Then he lifted a hand, and Balin picked up a small chest from the ground he had kept out of sight behind the altar stone.   
Thranduil tilted his head and lifted both eyebrows.

When Balin stepped before the elfish king he opened the chest that was filled with glimmering, blindingly white gemstones. Thranduil’s head flew up and he regarded Thorin with widened eyes, his lips twitching ever so slightly.

“The root of all ill-will,” the elfish King said. “And what would you ask of me in return?”  
Balin closed the chest again and a small smile tugged at the left corner of Thorin’s lips. “Nothing.”

Thranduil blinked a few times as he realised Balin was still holding the chest out to him. 

“Nothing.” Thorin repeated. “I know well that this is what lies at the heart of the enmity between our people, Thranduil of the Woodland Realm. But I swore that generosity be one of the virtues of my rule, so I ask you to accept this as a gift from the King under the Mountain. When I was talking about peace and prosperity, I meant it.”

In the silence that followed Thorin dared to cast a hasty glance at Gandalf and when their eyes met, Gandalf, a twitch on his lips, mouthed three words that Thorin could easily read: _A shrewd move_. Thorin allowed himself a tiny smile before focussing on Thranduil again.

Thranduil stared at Thorin for a long while before he inclined his head again. “It does not happen often that Thranduil is taken unawares, Thorin, son of Thrain.” He took the chest from Balin’s hand and handed it to one of his followers before facing the throne again. “I accept your gift, Thorin, son of Thrain, King under the Mountain. And I hope that with this, I can gift you with something of similar significance for yourself.”  
And with these words, he produced something from his robes. Then he held out his hand to Thorin, and the onlookers held their breath. 

Resting in Thranduil’s palm, white and shimmering in an ever-shifting light of unearthly colours, was the Arkenstone.

“I understand that your grandfather claimed this stone to be the proof that his right to rule was divine.” 

Slowly, Thorin got up from his throne and descended the steps. He took the stone from Thranduil’s hand and took a very deep breath. 

“So he said.” he said darkly. “And ever since the day it was found, the madness began to take hold of his soul.” He looked up, first at Thranduil, then at Elrond and finally, at Gandalf who was watching him with a very intense gaze.

Thorin stared at the Arkenstone in his hand and raised his voice. “Thror, King under the Mountain, claimed that the Arkenstone was the proof that his right to rule was divine. He claimed that it was the jewel that blessed the line of Durin, never to fade.” Then he looked up and let his eyes sweep over the crowd. “But I watched him suffer from the dragon sickness, ever since it was found,” Thorin went on, his voice thundering through the gallery. “I watched the sickness destroy him, and with him everything we ever held dear when the dragon came. It consumed him, it destroyed my father, and in the end, it almost consumed me.” 

He placed the Arkenstone onto the empty stone altar, but despite his words, had to struggle visibly to force his fingers to release the stone. Then he exchanged a look with Balin, the old warrior returning the look with visible confusion in his eyes.

“It was the Arkenstone that buried itself so deeply in my mind that I almost forgot who I was.” Thorin continued, curling his fists. “It almost made me destroy my honour and my very soul.” He stared at the jewel. “My grandfather believed it to be a blessing, but by now, I know better. The Arkenstone was never a blessing. It was a curse. The curse of Durin’s line.”  
He took a step back. “Bofur.” He flicked his hand, and Bofur hurried to his side. “Your mattock.”

Thorin closed his hands around the grip of the heavy weapon and raised his voice again. “The Arkenstone was never a blessing, for ever since its discovery, Durin’s line suffered. And I, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thor, will end this curse today!”

And with pure rage in his eyes he brought the mattock down and shattered the Arkenstone into a thousand shards. 

As the pieces fell apart, the glow vanished and all that remained were grains and flakes of pale, white stone. 

Thorin set the hammer down, breathing hard and fast. The rage had vanished, and he stared at the shattered remains of what once had been the jewel of jewels with a face that was impossible to read.

He first tore his eyes away from them when Elrond stepped to his side. “A greater deed has seldom been done by any king.” he said slowly. “And nothing you have ever done has taken greater strength, or deserves greater respect.”  
“You have done well, Thorin Oakenshield.” That was the voice of Gandalf’s voice who had stepped beside Lord Elrond. “Today you have proven yourself wiser and stronger than I ever could have imagined.”  
“A better King under the Mountain could never have been crowned.” Lord Elrond intoned. “For it has been proven today that Durin’s line is stronger than even the Mountain itself.”

Thorin inclined his head. “I pray to Mahal that your words are true, Mylord Elrond.” he said. 

Then he looked up yet again, for Thranduil had stepped to Elrond’s other side. He bowed his head. “Had I known what would transpire I would have brought another gift.” he said, a trace of humour in his voice.  
“I have no need for further gifts.”Thorin replied, his lips twitching in response. Yet his face became serious again as he went on. “But if you wish to give me something of value and of meaning, then all it takes are a few, simple words.”

Thranduil lifted his eyebrows, and with another twitch of his lips he raised his arms halfway up and stretched his fingers, his palms facing forward. “Then let me say them, Thorin, King under the Mountain. I would have peace between us.”  
“I would have peace, Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm.” Thorin replied gravely, mirroring the gesture.   
“We shall embark on a long and perilous journey,” Thranduil replied.   
“I know.” Thorin squared his shoulders and let his eyes roam over the onlookers who still stared at him, disbelief and shock in so many eyes.

“But now…” Thorin went on, raising his voice. “Now it is time to celebrate!”

The banquet had been prepared in the King’s Halls, and it lasted well into the night. A celebration that would remain in the memories of the Mountain himself.


	12. Chapter 12

The day after the coronation began in the hushed, uncomfortable atmosphere created by a lot of people nursing serious hangovers in various states.  
Lord Elrond and his entourage, however, were unaffected and had started to strike down their tents with sunrise. At midmorning, they were ready to leave. 

Thorin, flanked by his heirs, whom he had had to kick awake under the table, bid them farewell; the former bearing a regal composure, the latter two blinking painfully and bleary-eyed into the sunlight. Both princes winced when the elfish horns sounded the signal for departure.

At noon they bade Thranduil farewell and shortly after that, the Men of Dale. 

Thorin chuckled in unmasked mirth when he looked at his nephews as the three of them made their way back down the stairs.

“I swear I’ll never touch that Iron Hills honey-mead again,” Kili muttered. “Not a single drop.”  
“How many did you have?” Fili asked, rubbing his temples.  
“Uh... I think I lost count after the seventh one.”  
Fili shook his head. “I don’t think it was the mead, nor was it the ale. It was that cursed elfish wine that did it.”  
Thorin raised his eyebrows. “You had mead, ale and wine all in one evening and blame a single brew for your misery?” He chuckled again. “You still have a lot to learn, I see.”

The two princes exchanged a miserable glare, but Thorin let them be for the rest of the day.

* * *

As both princes had avoided the Iron Hills mead like the plague that evening, they were in a decidedly better shape the next morning and, leaning onto the railing of the balcony overlooking the central hall, they enjoyed a quiet a pipe, exchanging their thoughts on the last two days.

“I thought there would be much more drama about it all,” Kili said thoughtfully.   
“What exactly do you mean?”  
“I don’t know.” Kili looked at his pipe. “More... pomp I guess. Horns, drums, chanting... that sort of thing.”  
“Hours of reciting grand deeds of forefathers and omens for the future...” Fili went on. “You know that uncle Thorin hates that.”  
“I do, it just seemed so...” Kili broke off and scratched his chin.   
“Humble?” offered Fili.

“Yes, I guess humble is the word.” Kili looked at his brother. “But it all... I don’t know. I guess it hasn’t sunken in yet.”  
“You could say that twice and it’d be still only half true.” Fili replied with a chuckle under his breath. “I guess it is one thing to grow up on stories and be called a prince-if-only this and that, and another thing to be suddenly crowned as one.”  
Kili felt for his crown as if to make sure it was still there. “But what does it actually mean to be a prince, now that we finally are where we always talked about?” He frowned. “I mean, what is it we do?”  
Fili shrugged. “Representing, I suppose. Talking with important people. Mostly not making asses of ourselves.”

They exchanged a glance and grinned, but before either of them could say any more, they could hear steps approaching from behind and they turned to find Thorin bidding them a good morning.

“Thorin!” Fili nodded in greeting. “You are about early.”  
“So are you.” Thorin returned the nod, and Kili’s too. “Do you have plans for the day?”  
Fili and Kili exchanged a glance. “Well...” Fili said. “In actual fact...”  
“Because I have not forgotten that you have a promise to honour” Thorin said with a hint of a smile. “I saw Bofur about downstairs, I’m sure he’ll be glad to accompany you and drive the cart.”  
“Uncle...” A grin appeared on Fili’s face. “We’ll ask him! Thank you!”

As he watched them hurry down the stairs, Thorin shook his head with a wistful smile. “To be so young again...” he muttered under his breath. “Young and full of life.”

* * *

Since Fili had made his way on foot, and into the opposite direction to boot, it took them a while to find a way they could travel with the cart, and thus it was first on the morning of the fifth day after they had left Erebor that Fili finally recognized a distinct group of rocks. 

“Just around there!” He could feel his heartbeat pick up speed, not long now, and he would finally see her again. It had been the better part of a year.

He spurred his pony and Kili followed, but as they had rounded the cluster of boulders Fili paused, head cocked.

“Brother?” Kili nudged his pony forward to catch up. “What is it?”  
“It’s so quiet...” Fili muttered and urged his pony into a trot. “We should be able to hear the chickens from here...”

The hut came into view, and there was not a sound in the air. Fili’s eyes widened as he slid out of the saddle.  
The latch to the chicken coop was hanging askew and creaking softly in the wind, the door to the goat pen was lying a few feet away from the frame, having been ripped off the hinges. There was not a sign or sound of animals. 

Fili looked around in shock. 

The door to the hut was undamaged, but locked. Fili slammed his fist onto the door. “Katla?”

No one answered.

“Katla!” His voice rose and he hammered his fist against the door again and again. 

Behind him, Kili dismounted, looking around with a worried frown.

“Katla! Open the door! It’s me, Fili! Katla, I’m back! Open the door!” Breathing fast, Fili stepped back from the door. 

“What’s the matter?” Bofur reined the cart in and hopped from the seat. “What is... oh no.”  
“Break the door, Bofur,” Fili said, his voice hoarse. “Now!”

Bofur spun around on his heel to fetch his mattock but at that moment, they heard the sound of a key being turned in a lock. The door creaked and opened a crack.

“Katla?” Fili called and dashed towards the door. “Katla? Are you all right?”  
The door opened completely. “Fili? Is that really you?”  
“It is me, alive and well” Fili said, his relief unmistakable. 

Katla stumbled over the doorframe and fell into his arms with a sob. “Thank the Allmaker,” she gasped. “I thought I would never see you again!”  
Fili closed his arms around her as tightly as he could and pressed his face into her hair. “I promised, remember? I promised I’d be back, and here I am. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

They held onto each other for a moment until Fili released her from his embrace to look at her. His smile instantly turned into a frown. “Katla... what happened?” 

Her face was gaunt and pale, her eyes sunken and shadowed; Fili hesitatingly cupped her cheek in his hand. 

“I think... I don’t really know, but I think it was these creatures, these wolf-like creatures...”  
“Wargs?” Fili’s eyes widened in a flash of worry. “Did they...”  
“No.” Katla shuddered. “They came... it must have been close to midwinter. They must have smelled the animals and... they were hungry. They weren’t interested in the door to my hut, they only plundered the housings.”

Fili exchanged a worried look with his brother. “But you are unharmed?” He then asked Katla.  
“They were not interested in me,” Katla said again. “But without the animals I had scarcely any food left, and with all the snow I couldn’t forage, and when spring came I didn’t dare to go out anymore and...” She tried to stifle a sob, and Fili hastily pulled her close again.  
“Here,” he muttered softly. “It’s all right. I’ve come to take you away from this place. I’m a prince now, you see, so you will never know hunger again.”  
Katla stiffened in his arms and when she looked up, her eyes were wide. “A... prince?”

Fili smiled, but his smile faltered upon seeing her expression. “Katla, what... what is wrong with me being a prince? It doesn’t change anything! It’s still me!”  
Katla swallowed. “I know but... but it does. It does change everything.” Her voice trembled. “It changes everything, because...” She broke off and covered her face with her hands.

“Katla?” Fili exchanged a panicked glance with Bofur and Kili, but before he could say more, another sound, coming from the hut, pierced the silence.

It was the pitiful, thin wail of an infant, and all colour drained from Fili’s face.

Katla’s desperate sobs tore Fili out of his shock and he hurriedly pulled her into an embrace again. “Oh Mahal, what have I done to you?” He buried his face into her hair again, his voice shaky. “What have I done?”

The wail rose in intensity and Katla tore herself away from him and vanished hastily into the hut.

“He’s going to skin me alive,” Fili whispered tonelessly.  
Kili stepped hesitatingly to his side and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “He’s going to skin you alive.”

Fili’s face was grey and his hands were trembling. “Durin’s Beard, Kili, what do I do now?”  
“I’ve no idea,” his brother replied. “But maybe uncle Thorin won’t skin you, on account of you being his heir and all, and will just nail you to his door by the ears and wait until you fall off.”  
“Very funny,” Fili snapped in reply and looked at him, but his anger vanished when he saw Kili’s expression. 

At that moment Katla stepped out of the hut again, a small bundle in her arms. She searched Fili’s eyes with a look of anxiety in her own.  
Feeling like the ground was about to swallow him, Fili walked up to her and looked down at the blanket in her arms. A tiny hand stuck out of the wrapping, and with his face lighting up in awe, Fili reached out with a trembling forefinger and touched it. 

“Is it... Did we...” He looked at Katla’s face again.  
“Of course he’s yours. Who else’s could he be?”  
Fili’s eyes widened. “He?”  
Katla nodded and blinked back her tears. “Your son. He was born a fortnight ago.”  
Fili hesitatingly held out his arms, and Katla gently handed him the child. 

His face awestruck and his eyes shiny with moisture, Fili looked down at the face of his son and the wisps of blonde hair that stuck out from under the blanket. The world came to a halt around him.

“Kili,” he whispered. “Brother, look... I have a son!”  
Kili stepped beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. “And he’s just as ugly as you...”  
Fili cast him a glance out of the corners of his eyes, only for a second, before he returned them to the face of the infant in his arms. “I have a son...”

“Oh Mahal,” Kili breathed in sudden shock.   
“What?” Fili lifted his head.  
“I just realised what that means!” Kili’s eyes were almost impossibly wide.  
“What?” Fili said again, decidedly more nervous this time.  
Kili stared at his brother and suddenly grinned like a madman. “It means that _I_ am the uncle now!”

The brothers’ sudden laugh quickly ebbed off into a chuckle as Fili returned his eyes once more to the face of his son. “I have a son,” he said again. “My firstborn son. Thorin can’t take him away from me.”

He did not notice Bofur and Kili exchanging a very unhappy look behind his back.

* * *

They shared a meal sitting outside in the grass, apart from Fili who was far too engrossed in his son to think of something as mundane as food.   
He would not let go of the child as the others ate, and first when the boy became restless and started whimpering he tore his eyes away from him, giving Katla an almost panicked look.

“Am I doing something wrong?”  
Katla shook her head, her expression a mixture of amusement and mild exasperation, and held out her arms. “Unless you count having no breasts to feed him as doing it wrong then no.”

Kili and Bofur exchanged a glance and snickered as Fili handed Katla the boy with burning cheeks.

After sitting down beside him Katla put the baby to her breast and the whimpering instantly stopped. Katla winced.

“Are you all right?” Fili asked anxiously.  
Shaking her head, Katla chuckled. “I am fine. Your son just has a voracious appetite, is all. And he is a biter.”  
“A what?”  
“He bites. And believe me, there is no need for teeth for it to hurt.”

Fili lifted his eyebrows and pursed his lips as he stared at the tiny form of his son. 

“So then...” Bofur clapped his hands. “I guess we’d better start packing. What do you need?”  
Katla looked up at him. “Everything from the kitchen...” she said thoughtfully. “And everything from the shelves in the other room, all the herbs, pots, jugs, bags and packages. But start in the kitchen, I shall join you shortly.”

Kili and Bofur got up and got to work packing the kitchenware into a sack.

Katla looked up at Fili who was staring at his son at her breast. She could not help but laugh softly. “Aren’t you going to help?”   
Fili blinked as if waking up from a daydream. “Hm? Oh, Sorry. Yes, I’d better.”  
Katla shook her head, the smile dimming on her face as she watched him go inside.

Since she had only few possessions the packing was done in less than an hour, and they decided to get on their way instead of spending the night at her hut. With nightfall, they reached a small grove of trees where they spread their bedrolls and lit a fire.

As soon as Katla stepped down from the coach box Fili was at her side, and while she was sitting on a rug with her back to a tree to nurse her son, Fili sat down next to her to tell her that she should not worry about anything anymore.

“Everything will be fine once we’ve settled you in,” he said brightly. “You and Oin could probably open a school for healers between the two of you. And when you are my wife, no one will dare to look down at you because of your blood.”  
“Fili.” Katla looked up at him in concern. “Are you that sure that the King will let his prince marry a half-breed?”  
Fili took her hand in his. “You have given me a son, do you think he can ignore that?”  
“No, not ignore, but I could imagine he would not be very happy about it.”  
“He can be as unhappy as he chooses.” His voice was suddenly dark. “And even though I know that this... this is maybe not in the best of circumstances, my son is not growing up a bastard. I will restore your honour, Katla. You will be my princess, and our son will grow up an honoured warrior in the halls of his forefathers.”

Before Katla could reply anything else Fili had placed a gentle kiss onto her lips. “Is he finished?” He asked then. “Can I hold him again?”

Katla looked down and after a few moments lifted the baby up to her shoulder and patted his back; and after he had rid himself of air and a little excess milk she handed him to Fili, absentmindedly wiping the milk from her shirt with a rag.

Fili sat down with his back against the tree beside Katla and pulled up his knees. Resting the boy on his thighs and cupping his head in his hands he marvelled at the perfection of this tiny being that was his son.

“My son.” He whispered. “My son.”

Katla rested her head against his shoulder and Fili turned his head to place a kiss onto her temple before his eyes moved back to the child.

“I can easily imagine what kind of mischief you and your uncle will concoct once you’re old enough.” A gentle smile played around his mouth. “And your grandmother will spoil you absolutely rotten, I’m sure. But maybe with my help and uncle Thorin’s, we can make a man out of you anyway.”

Katla opened her eyes again and realised that Kili and Bofur were watching him talking to his son and exchange an unhappy look. When Bofur realised she was looking at them he tried to give her a reassuring smile, but failed utterly.


	13. Chapter 13

As they neared the gate of Erebor Kili reined his pony in beside Fili’s. Their journey back had been faster, but the mood had been one of mild anxiety. Kili cast a look at his brother again; Fili’s face was hard to read. 

“Brother?”  
“Hm?” Fili didn’t look at his brother and kept on staring straight ahead.  
“Do you think...?” Kili scratched his chin with a frown. “I’m sure mother can keep uncle Thorin in check somehow.”  
Fili shrugged. “He’d better keep himself in check. I won’t let him badmouth my son.”  
With a sigh, Kili looked ahead again, glad for a change of topic to present itself. “Look, I think they’re bidding goodbye to Bilbo, as it seems.”  
“Good,” was Fili’s dark reply. “Then I won’t have to look for him to get it over with.”

As it turned out, Thorin had seen them coming as he and Dís and the rest of the Company had accompanied Bilbo outside to bid him farewell, and with crossed arms and a neutral, almost friendly expression he watched them approach. Bilbo stood next to him, the bridle of his pony in his hand, and waved at the approaching princes with a smile.

Kili and Fili reined in their horses and dismounted, and just as Thorin took his first step towards them to greet them, his eyes fell on the wagon and Katla who sat beside Bofur. His look became first one of puzzlement, but when he realised what he was seeing, his face darkened and his eyes turned to black obsidian with anger. 

His face and movements radiating barely concealed fury he stepped towards Fili who drew himself up, but before his nephew could even open his mouth Thorin had slapped him so hard across the face that Fili almost lost his balance. He stumbled a step back and stared at Thorin with a pale face.

“What is the meaning of this?” Thorin growled. “How dare you?”  
“Thorin...” Fili began, but the King cut him off.  
“How dare you? Have you no shame, no sense of decency? Did I fail so utterly in trying to raise you to be a dwarf of honour?”  
Fili swallowed hard and crossed his arms. “I did not...”  
“Taking advantage of your good looks and the loneliness of a woman living all by herself and then leaving her like that!” Thorin was bristling with fury. “And you a prince of Durin!”  
“Thorin it was... I didn’t remember I was a prince until...”  
“And you obviously didn’t remember anything else I tried to teach you about honour and decency either!”

“Thorin!” Fili dropped his arms and curled his hands into fists. “I didn’t mean for this to happen...”  
“Then obviously you did not listen to me either that evening in Ered Luin when I attempted to teach you about men and women, did you? Or to anything else regarding the consequences of your actions!”  
“Thorin...”  
“Silence! I am not even King for a full turn of the moon and already I have a royal bastard to deal with! How could you?”  
Fili bared his teeth in sudden anger. “He is not a bastard!” He snarled. “He is my son!”

“And I gather you expect to marry her and claim him as yours?” Thorin’s voice was dangerously calm.  
“And if I do, what about it?” Fili straightened up and crossed his arms again.   
Thorin stared at him for a moment in utter confusion. “What about it?” Then his voice rose again. “What about it? Have you already forgotten what transpired during the coronation? Do you remember what happened? The line of Durin, stronger than the mountain itself, and you expect me to let you water this line down with the blood of Man?”  
Fili stared at his uncle with parted lips.  
“I gather you have not thought this through,” Thorin went on, his voice somewhat calmer. “I regret to inform you that this is not going to happen. You are the marked prince, Fili. Do you really expect to rule in the surety of our forefathers when your heir is not a true dwarf?”

Still holding Thorin’s steely gaze Fili was groping for words, but finally, could only look away in defeat. 

“She and the child shall be taken care of,” Thorin said after a long moment of stony silence. “A father’s deeds can never be a child’s fault. His existence may be a spot of shame on Durin’s line, but I... strongly doubt he is the first, and I will not allow myself to hope he will be the last.” He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. 

“Bofur,” he said after a moment and dropped the hand. He seemed to have aged a few years within the last few minutes.  
“Aye?” was the hesitating reply of Bofur who cautiously stepped closer.  
“You seemed to get along well with her, didn’t you?”  
Bofur stared at Thorin with his mouth agape for a few moments before he stammered out an affirmation.  
Thorin crossed his hands at his back. “Will you take her and the child, and raise him as yours? Will you do this for your King and your prince?”  
“I...” Panic in his eyes Bofur looked hastily back and forth between his King and his prince. The former looked at him expectantly while the latter stared at nothing with gritted teeth. “I... if that’s your wish, Thorin...”  
Thorin gave him a nod. “Then that’s settled.”

Fili looked at Bofur who shrugged helplessly. With a shake of his head, the prince lowered his gaze again. 

Thorin then rested his eyes on Katla and lifted his hand. “Come here... Katla, was it?”

Holding the swaddled child tightly in her arms, Katla came closer, looking ready to bolt. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her eyes wide in fear.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” Thorin said in a low, almost gentle voice. “I just want you to understand that I have little choice in this matter. If he was anything but the marked prince I would do otherwise. I am not evil at heart. But this, I cannot let happen. I know your blood is no fault of yours, but it cannot be.”  
Katla swallowed and her voice was husky as she replied. “I understand.”  
“Good. I have given you to a good man; he will take good care of you. You will lack nothing, and your skills will be valued highly here.”

Katla stared at her feet before taking a deep breath. “I have a request, my King,” she said and lifted her head again.  
Thorin tilted his head slightly to one side. “Speak.”  
“If I remember correctly...” Katla swallowed. “If I remember correctly, then I have a debt I can call in...”  
Thorin’s look darkened and he crossed his arms. His voice, when he spoke, was dark as well. “Well?”

Balin, who had been standing close to Thorin all the time, now shook his head as Katla all but gulped for air. She cast a look at the old dwarf, her shoulders heaving with heavy breaths.

“I would ask you not to give me to a man not of my choosing,” Katla said, looking back at Thorin. She straightened up somewhat and adjusted the bundle in her arms. “I have taken care of myself long enough; I can take care of myself and my child. My trade, as you said, will feed us as long as there are those around that are in need of it.”  
Thorin took a deep breath. “And you would submit your son to the shame of being a fatherless child, a bastard without a heritage? Is that what you wish?”  
“No.” Katla cast a look at the child in her arms. “No. I will tell everyone that I am a widow and my husband fell in the battle for Erebor.”  
“You are aware that this is a lie that everyone will recognise as one?” Thorin shook his head.  
“Not if I live with people who know neither me nor his father.”  
Fili dropped his arms. “Katla... no!”  
Fresh tears in her eyes, she looked at him and swallowed. “Fili, I... There is no other way. I don’t want to marry someone else, but the King is right. If I don’t marry, I cannot stay here.”

“Katla...” Fili took a slow step forward and cautiously placed a hand on her cheek.   
“There is no other way,” she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears.  
Fili swallowed hard and shook his head. “I know,” he whispered back, even if he rather would have screamed _no_ over and over again. “But where will you go?”  
“I don’t know. I’ll find a place somehow.”

Someone behind them cautiously but pointedly cleared their throat. All eyes came to rest on Bilbo.

“If I...” Bilbo timidly began and, when Thorin nodded he continued. “If I could make a suggestion?”  
Katla nodded.  
“It might be a good idea to come with me. I mean... to live in the Shire. Hobbits are... well they are maybe a bit suspicious of strangers at first...” He smiled crookedly at Thorin. “But I am sure you would be very welcome. Not to mention that while we have a capable midwife in Hobbiton, the next apothecary is in Bywater and that’s a good bit of a walk when someone’s sick.”

Katla looked at Fili who still felt as if he should wake up any moment from this nightmare. “The Shire sure is a friendly and peaceful place,” he said hoarsely. “You could do worse.”  
With a nod, Katla turned to Bilbo again. “I think this is a good idea, master Hobbit,” she said with a trembling voice.  
“Bilbo,” Bilbo hurried to say and bowed. “Bilbo Baggins. At your service.”

An uncomfortable and heavy silence followed these last words.

Thorin cast a look around and took a deep breath. “Well then,” he said. “If that is how you wish to settle the debt, then so be it.”  
“I do,” Katla gave back almost inaudibly.  
“Good. Bofur, would you be willing to go with her and Bilbo and make sure they arrive safely?”  
“Sure thing,” Bofur replied. “Can’t let a defenceless woman travel the country alone.”  
“I’ll go with them, too,” Kili said.  
“Kili?” Thorin raised his eyebrows but Kili leaned slightly forward with an air of resolve.   
“If the only thing I can do for my brother is make sure she comes to no harm, then that is what I’ll do!”  
“Have it your way then,” Thorin replied. “When do you leave?”

All eyes fell on Katla who swallowed and looked at Thorin after having cast a hasty glance at Fili. “I think we’d best go. We’ve got a few hours of daylight yet.”  
“Agreed.” Thorin nodded gravely. “There is no need to drag this out longer than necessary. I wish you safe travels, Katla. Fili, you come with me.”  
“No.” Fili squared his shoulders.   
Thorin drew another breath that promised ill, but before he could say something Fili continued.  
“I am going to say farewell to her. And my son.”

All of those who had been unwilling witnesses to the drama having taken place now slowly began to withdraw, Thorin and Dís included.

Dís looked at Thorin as they retreated out of earshot and her brother sighed. “You know I had no choice, don’t you?”  
“Of course I do,” she replied. “But that does not make it easier to watch.”

Fili looked at Katla and swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I am so sorry... I have shamed you and now... Can you ever forgive me?”  
Katla placed a hand on his cheek. “Forgive you for loving me?” A sad smile appeared on her lips. “No, Fili, there is nothing to forgive. It just was not meant to be.”

Fili closed his arms around her and buried his face into her hair. They stood like this for a while until he leaned back and held out his arms. Katla wordlessly handed him the child and let her tears flow as Fili kissed the child’s forehead, eyes squeezed shut.

“You are my son,” he whispered. “You are my firstborn son, and I shall never forget that.” He touched his forehead to that of his infant son’s and remained like this. “My son, flesh of my flesh, and blood of my blood.” 

He forced himself to hand the child back to her. 

“I would...” Fili’s voice almost broke and he cleared his throat. “I would have liked to give him my uncle’s – Thorin’s brother’s – name... Frerin.”  
“Frerin it shall be.” Katla whispered through her tears.

For a few agonizing moments Fili and Katla stared at each other. 

“I wish I could give him more than a name,” Fili whispered. “But he won’t even grow up like a dwarf now.”  
Katla lowered her eyes and blinked her tears away. “I wish he could. I really do.”  
Fili leaned forward and touched her forehead with his.

When he looked up, he found Bofur already standing beside the cart and Bilbo sitting on his pony next to it. He took Katla’s arm and walked her towards the cart. 

When they had reached it, Bofur gave both Katla and Fili a sad look. “’S not right, if you ask me.”  
“But it is.” Fili’s voice was toneless. “Thorin’s right. It’s about the blood.”  
Bofur shook his head. “It’s only ever always about blood.”

After looking at the child in her arms with a sigh, Katla held him out to Bofur. Understanding dawning in his eyes Bofur took the small bundle and turned around, heading for the seat of the cart.

Katla fell into Fili’s arms for one last, desperate kiss. Fili buried his hands into her hair, willing this moment to last forever, pretending for a precious moment that he was not about to never see her and his son again.  
But then Katla tore herself away from him with a sob and climbed hastily onto the seat beside Bofur.

Fili stared at the cart as it began to move away from him and didn’t move when his brother stepped up beside him, acknowledging his presence only after Kili had placed a hand onto his shoulder. He slowly lifted his head to look at him, and Kili’s eyes widened when he realised he was seeing tears running down Fili’s cheeks. It wasn’t before Fili saw his brother’s eyes that he became aware of his tears himself.

With a grunt Kili threw his arms around his brother and held him as tightly as he could. “I swear I’ll see her there safely,” he muttered. “I swear I won’t let her come to harm, brother. I’d die first.”  
Then he let go and Fili gave his brother a nod of thanks. “Thank you, brother.”

Kili nodded as well and hurried towards his pony to catch up with the wagon. 

A heavy weight slowly began to crush Fili as he turned around and walked back to Thorin with heavy steps. Most of the others had taken their leave, not wishing to witness the farewell so it was just the King and his mother waiting for him. A strange, heavy coldness settled inside him.

“Tears?”Thorin’s voice was icy. “Do you have no pride left at all?”  
Dís cast him a scalding look. “Thorin have mercy; just this once!”  
“No, mother, he is right.” Fili wiped his eyes. “My apologies, Thorin. It won’t happen again.”  
Thorin shook his head. “Fili, you know I haven’t done this to spite you, or out of cruelty, do you?”  
“Of course I do.”Fili met his eyes. “I just let myself be blinded by... by emotions that should have no place in the heart of a future King.”

Dís put a hand on his arm, but he shook it off.

Thorin crossed his hands behind his back. “You are rather smitten with her, I see that. But in the end, she is only a woman. You were together in that hut for what? Less than two weeks? I know it does not feel that way now, but the hottest flames are the soonest burnt out.”  
“If you say so.” Fili’s voice was toneless.

Thorin gave him a calculating stare. “Was she a virgin?”  
Fili met his eyes again, a trace of anger in his voice when he replied: “Is that your business?”  
“By the way you presented her to me today you have made it my business.”  
“Very well” Fili said through gritted teeth. “If you must know, yes, she was a virgin.”  
“And that didn’t give you pause?”  
Fili took a deep breath. “We never talked about it, you know. Could you have stopped yourself upon... discovering it that way?”  
“Most likely not,” Thorin chuckled sadly.“As long as she didn’t braid your beard as well.”  
“Thorin!” Dís snapped at him, utterly scandalized, and Fili hastily looked away.

“What?” Thorin looked at his nephew, crossed his arms and his voice swelled with anger. “Look at me!”  
Fili did so, but very reluctantly.  
“Tell me she didn’t.”  
“Thorin!”  
“With all respect, Dís, keep out of this. Tell me!”  
Fili remained stubbornly mute.   
“I would like to know right now,” Thorin began, “if you are silent out of shame or because you do not wish to lie to me.”

The silence was palpable.

“Well?”  
Finally, Fili looked up again with discomfiture in his eyes. “You know I could not lie to you, uncle.”  
That answer instantly earned him another slap across the face. “I should shear that head and face of yours as bald as an egg for that!” Thorin growled, and Fili’s face went white.  
“Brother, that’s quite enough.”  
“Did you listen to him?” Thorin barked out. “He confesses as bold as brass to having taken a woman’s virginity and having let her braid his... I can’t believe that this is supposed to be the nephew I’ve raised!”

Fili swallowed hard before he spoke, and his voice was cracked and hoarse. “Is that what you want, Thorin? Is that what you want to do to me for having fallen in love with the wrong woman? To see me humiliated beyond redemption?”  
“It is not the falling in love,” Thorin replied harshly, crossing his arms. “It is the having made an utter disgrace out of yourself because of it!”  
With his mouth a thin line Fili drew his dagger and held it out to Thorin. “Well, what are you waiting for? I won’t stop you!”  
“Fili!” Dís wrung her hands.  
“Don’t tempt me,” Thorin said in a dangerously low growl.  
“Or am I supposed to do it myself, is it that?” With that, Fili slung one of his moustache braids around a finger and rested the knife on his upper lip.  
“Fili, no!”

Thorin dropped his hands again and leaned forward. “You should listen to yourself, whelp. As if you could cut off your own beard because of a woman, even if you truly deserve it!”  
“Watch me,” Fili replied tonelessly and sliced. 

Dís stifled a scream as he dropped the severed braid at his feet. Before Thorin could react, he had cut off the other braid as well and grabbed a fistful of his hair.   
It was as if he was watching himself from afar. He should feel appalled, horrified even, but he felt nothing. Nothing at all.

“ENOUGH!” Thorin yanked the knife out of his hand. “Get to your halls and don’t show your face again until the damage you’ve done is no longer visible, do you hear me?!”  
Fili bowed his head. “Yes, my King,” he replied, his voice still devoid of any emotion. 

He turned on his heel and left, leaving a trembling Dís to pick up his braids.

“Mahal, what have you done to yourself?” She whispered shakily as she cradled the severed braids in her hands. “How could you do this?”  
“Dispose of that before someone sees it,” Thorin said coldly and turned to go.  
“What?” Dís grabbed his shoulder and bodily spun him around. “I don’t... who...who are you? My brother, or a heartless old man jealous of a young one’s love? You dared him do it, you beast! You made him do this to himself!”

This time, it was Dís who slapped Thorin, and with a sob, she ran after her son, leaving Thorin gingerly touching his cheek and staring at her as she vanished inside.

With a deep and heavy sigh, the King under the Mountain sat down on a rock and shook his head. “Crowned me a King,” he muttered. “A man who can’t even keep the peace in his own family.” He looked up again, a deep furrow of pain creasing his forehead.


	14. Chapter 14

It was late that evening when Dís entered the complex of rooms that were Fili’s halls. She found him sitting in an ancient armchair that was covered with a large pelt, next to a fireplace that was cold and only filled with ashes. The temperature this deep in the mountain was cold even in summer, and the room was chilly and damp. She hastily put the tray with food she was carrying onto the nearest table and, shaking her head, she swiftly walked over to the fireplace where she hiked up her skirts and crouched down to get a fire going.

It was at that moment that the still form inhibiting the armchair came to life.

“Here, _Amad_ , let me do this. You shouldn’t grovel around like a servant lighting other people’s fires.”

Dís looked up at her son with her lips a narrow line, yet straightened up again as he left his armchair to remove the ashes and rekindle the fire.  
When he stood up again Dís stepped directly before him and placed a hand on his cheek to force him to look at her. 

“You did not have to do this,” she said with a sad shake of her head.  
Fili shrugged. “Apparently, according to Thorin, I deserved it, and even more.”  
“What Thorin said,” Dís gave back angrily. “He says – and does – a lot of things one moment only to regret them the next. He’s of Durin’s line for sure, just like you. Stubborn as the bones of the mountains, the lot of you!”  
Since Fili did not answer she took a deep breath, but that did not dispel the anger from her voice.  
“I suppose you have no idea what it is for me, a woman of Durin’s line, I gather? To stand helplessly by and be forced to watch countless times as her manfolk come to grievous harm because of that cursed stubbornness and pride! If I had a coin for every time I had to bite my tongue because of you cursed stubborn men I could have _bought_ Erebor back from the dragon!”

Fili crossed his arms as he waited for his mother to finish and then spoke in a low voice. “Is that why you came here? To make sure I wouldn’t freeze to death so you could properly give me a piece of your mind?”  
“No.” Dís took another deep, trembling breath, and when she looked back at her son, the anger was almost gone from her eyes, replaced by a deep sadness. “I came to bring you food. Although if it helps, I gave your rock-head of an uncle the same piece of mind just before I came here.” She crossed her arms so tightly she seemed to hug herself. “But mainly I came because I wanted to let you know that I...” 

She turned to stare at the flames for a while, and Fili stepped beside her.

“I saw you part from your son,” she went on, her voice husky. “And it tore my heart out. I came to tell you that I could have him brought back and put him into fosterage here, that way you could at least watch him grow up.”  
“And take him away from his mother?” Fili narrowed his eyes. “I gather she wouldn’t be welcome here after what transpired today. Or could she come, too, and be forced to watch her child grow up with strangers and call another woman mother?”  
“I would never take the child against her will,” Dís said sternly. “I thought you knew me better than that.”  
“I guess I should.” Fili shook his head. “I’m sorry. But what I don’t understand is why it matters so much to you.”

Dís stared at her son for a moment, and then shook her head again. “Why it matters? Fili, you are my son, how could I just stand back and watch you suffer without at least trying to help? Apart from that, it is my grandson we are talking about.”  
“I somehow managed to forget that,” Fili said a little crestfallen. “Of course he is your blood kin too.”  
“And he is my brother’s as well, although he skilfully chooses to ignore this. He only sees what he calls _impure blood_ and ignores that...” She broke off and bit her lower lip. “You know, I should not be talking about this, but I shall do it anyway.”

She then turned to face her son, and Fili lifted his head to look at her.

“Suffice to say that Thrain, your grandfather, was not the epitome of virtue as your uncle likes to remember him. I know for sure of two half-brothers we had, even if everyone pretended not to know. Thrain had taken a liking to these two bastards of his, had them fostered by quite important families, and thus made sure they would have a good name, rank and standing amongst his people.”  
Fili narrowed his eyes. “But if everyone knew, wasn’t there a lot of gossip?”  
Dís displayed narrow smile. “It was scandalous. Of course there was talk, but since half of the bastards’ blood was still Durin’s, no one talked too loud.”  
Fili looked back into the flames. “Did uncle know?”  
“Of course he did.” Dís snorted softly under her breath. “He used to pretend they didn’t exist.”

“Maybe that is the reason he was so livid,” Fili said after a moment. “Because he wanted to be better, and wanted his heir to be better than that, too. Only... he wasn’t.”  
“Fili.” Dís placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thorin, like you, fails to see the difference. The difference between a young, unmarried man sowing wild oats, and a mature, married warrior siring children on another women than his wife.”  
“Does it really matter? Does it really matter if a man is married or not when he sires children on a woman he is not married to?”  
“Does it make a...” Dís exhaled softly. “Try to look at it this way. You did something indecent. Thrain committed adultery. Is that not difference enough?”

“Maybe.” Fili shrugged uncomfortably. “He still wanted to give me the full punishment, at least for a moment.”  
“Mahal save me.” His mother shook her head. “See, this is what I meant when I talked about saying things and then regretting them. That stubbornness and pride that does not bend nor give an inch. And when two such minds collide all that is left for me is to pick up the pieces afterwards.” She swallowed hard. “Literally sometimes.”  
“I’m sorry, _Amad_.”

“Yes, you are, aren’t you, _dashatê_. You made a mistake, and you are sorry, but you cannot undo what happened. You have been properly chastised, and that should be an end to it. What Thorin said he should do to you was utterly out of place and disproportionate to your fault. The worst kind of oath breaker is punished that way, and in my life I have never witnessed such. I believe your uncle was thinking more of his father than of you.”  
Fili lifted one eyebrow.  
“The fact is that he regrets what he said and what ultimately, his words made you do. The only problem is that his Mahal-damned stubborn pride will keep him from ever admitting as much to you.”  
“Has he admitted it to you?”  
“No.” Dís smiled a knowing little smile. “But I have known him all my life.”

Fili shrugged and went down into a crouch to put another log into the fire. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He asked in a low voice after straightening up again. “Because somehow, it doesn’t.”  
“No, I know that. I just had hopes it might take the edge off it. And even though I talked until my tongue was sore, you are still under... well, I guess you could call it arrest.”  
“Maybe it’s better that way. At least no one will see me like this.”  
“Maybe it truly is. And see, there we are again. I know it doesn’t feel that way, but by keeping you behind locked doors until your beard has re-grown he is sparing you the shame. I guess it is his way of trying to care for you.”

Shaking his head, Fili sat down into his armchair again and stretched out his legs. “You have given me a lot to think about, _Amad_.”  
“And I guess this is you letting me know in a kind way that you would rather be alone now?” Dís asked gently and put a hand on his shoulder. With a small move she then dropped something into his lap and, mildly puzzled, Fili closed his fingers around it before looking up at her with a small, crooked smile. “I don’t know how you do this... this reading of my mind.”  
At that, Dís had to laugh. “Oh _dashatê_ , it is a trait every mother develops. Especially if she is mother to boys like you and your brother. Without it, I would never have gotten you through childhood and adolescence.”

With that, she pressed a motherly kiss onto the top of Fili’s head and left him to stare into the fire, his fingers closed around the beads that had adorned his braids.

* * *

Several weeks passed Fili by in his confinement and the only one to visit him was his mother to bring him food; and more often as not she took the food of the previous meal away untouched. He was usually just sitting in the armchair by the hearth, just like this time around when the door opened. Only, it wasn’t his mother. 

“Brother?”  
Fili lifted his head and got out of the chair. “Kili? Back already?”

Kili was still dirty and grimy from the road, his boots and shins crusted in mud and his cloak wet from the rain, but both brothers ignored this as they embraced. Kili slapped his brother’s back once before he stepped back with an assessing look.

“Mother told me what happened,” he said. “Seems like the worst is over.”  
“Regarding what he wanted to do I’ve gotten off lightly,” Fili interrupted him rather sharply. “And I’d rather not think about it.”  
“Sorry.” Kili tilted his head with a frown. “I just can’t...”  
“Drop it.” Fili shook his head and crossed his arms, then turned to stare at the fire. “In a week utmost I’ll be able to show my face again and then I’d rather not think about it anymore. And talk about it even less.”

Kili looked away for a moment, and then at his brother again, his frown deepening. “I’ll take the chance then as we’re talking about it now, brother. Thorin had no right to say the things he said and...”  
“And what?” Fili looked up at his brother.   
“And I wanted to let you know that, had I been there, he wouldn’t have gotten away with it just like that.”  
A dry and lifeless chuckle escaped Fili’s lips. “And what do you think you could have done to stop him?”  
“To stop him, nothing.”Kili replied. “But as sure as granite is hard, I swear I would have made him regret it. He can’t do something like this to you, Fili. I’m your brother; I would not have let you go alone through something like that.” 

Fili met his brother’s eyes that were looking back in fierce resolve. “Don’t talk like that,” he whispered hoarsely. “Don’t even think it.”  
Kili very slowly shook his head. “I mean it.”  
Swallowing heavily, Fili held his brother’s unflinching gaze. “Kili, no. You have no part in this... this is my shame, for me alone to bear.”  
Kili shook his head again. “Not alone. Not if I can help it.”

With a shake of his own head Fili stepped forth and the brothers embraced again, and did not let go of each other for a long time.


	15. Chapter 15

Sparsely populated as Erebor still was, feeding the slowly growing population had not yet been difficult; even if no one lived in the luxury remembered by those few old ones able to think as far back. But with the successful harvest having been brought in from the fertile plains around the lake two years in a row, the dwarrow finally had enough grain to spare to start their own brewing again.

Dark Mountain Ale it was called; and within a surprisingly short time a tavern had been established on the first level right between the Halls of the Warriors and the Galleries of the Craftsmen. Bofur was quite proud of his new business; he had, as one of the Company, used his newly acquired wealth to build the first establishment of that sort in Erebor as he had been, in his own words, ‘tired to the tips of his beard’ of coalmining. 

As it was usually in the _Dragon and Burglar_ she could find her sons if she couldn’t find them anywhere else, Dís entered the tavern to be greeted heartily by the landlord, followed by a flick of his thumb into the direction of the farthest corner where Fili and Kili sat at a round board, drinking ale and deeply engaged in a game of _bâkhza_. 

Fili just put one of his warriors down again, making his brother mutter a very choice curse when Dís approached their table.

“Do your kiss your mother with that mouth?” She asked gently.  
Kili almost fell out of his chair, much to his brother’s mirth, and blushed. “Uh... Oh. Hello, _Amad_. I didn’t see you coming.”  
“I gathered as much.” There was unmasked amusement in her eyes, despite her stern voice. “Where did you learn such foul words?”  
Kili opened his mouth, but his mother forestalled him with a smile. “As if I didn’t know what coming of age and being among warriors does to a mother’s efforts of raising a decent man. Be that as it may, in fact I came to speak to you, Fili.”

Fili looked up with a nod and finished his ale. “I gather this is not an environment to your liking?”  
“Indeed not.” Dís was serious again. “But I believe it will not take as long, so your brother could maybe get himself another ale for company while he waits for your return.”  
Fili gave his brother a nod, paired with a small smile. “Find you here?”  
Kili leaned back into his chair and crossed his legs at the ankles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

As they headed for the Halls of the King, Dís cast a look at her son every now and then, but even though Fili did give her a questioning look upon discovering it, she did not speak before they had reached her personal quarters and she had closed the door behind them.

“Mother?”  
Dís stood with her hands clasped and looked at the far wall. “You are probably wondering why a talk that I said would not take very long would require so much privacy.”  
“I do.” Fili said, stepping around his mother to look at her. “Honestly, you look like the bearer of ill news.”  
“And I most likely am.” Dís turned to face him. “And I wanted to tell you in privacy because... because I fear how you may react.”

Fili pressed his lips together and slowly crossed his arms. 

“Thorin came to me this morning, telling me we had to talk about you.”  
At that, Fili closed his eyes. “I think I know where this is going.” He muttered.  
“He said he had given you enough time, and that by now, you should be ready to face your royal duties.”  
Fili opened his eyes again. “I gather he was a little more specific?”  
“He was.” Dís suppressed a sigh.   
“And who is she?”Fili asked then, his face betraying no emotion.  
“She is the daughter of Daín’s highest ranking Master of Arms. Ysona, daughter of Glerin, son of Glaran.  
“Glerin, son of Glaran? The warrior who slew one of the trolls in the battle for Erebor?”  
“The very same.”

Fili weighed his head. “It seems like Daín is thinking very highly of Thorin’s reign.”  
Dís snorted under her breath. “He is thinking highly of Erebor’s treasures and naught else. Glerin is his cousin; all Daín wants is to have a strong foothold through family ties so he can claim Right of Blood should Thror’s line ever fail.”  
“And Thorin is not going to let that happen, of course.”  
“No.” Dís looked up at her son, a deep frown on her face.   
“Do you know that woman?”  
“No,”Dís said again. “I tried to gather at least some rumours, to no avail.”

Fili looked past her and shrugged. “Well I guess it matters little how she looks or what she is like. We only need her for her womb, after all.”  
“Fili!” Dís clenched her fists. “Are you listening to yourself?”  
He frowned. “My apologies for hurting your feelings, amad. I guess you were in no...”  
“You are not hurting my feelings with your words! You hurt me with being so... so utterly cold about this!”

Fili crossed his arms. “What would you rather I’d do? Throw a fit of rage and try punching holes into the walls? Or weep like a little girl over a dead sparrow?”  
After a moment of cold silence, Dís shook her head with a sigh that was closer to a sob. “No. I don’t know what I would have you rather do. Anything but this... this deadness.”  
Fili didn’t reply.  
“ _Dashatê_.” Her voice was soft and gentle as she put a hand on his shoulder. “Sometimes you seem like a man made of stone. I haven’t seen your laughter or rage, or even anger, ever since...”  
“Ever since?” Fili leaned forward so their faces were only inches apart and made no effort to hide the sharp lines between his brows nor those around the corners of his mouth. “Ever since I had to cut my own heart out over two years ago. I’m still waiting for it to grow back.” Then he straightened up and turned to go, yet addressed his mother over his shoulder as he was about to open the door.

“It’s better this way. You can let Thorin know that I will be off for the Iron Hills tomorrow to start courting Lady Ysona, daughter of Glerin. There is no need to delay this any further.”

He left his mother’s quarters, and Dís slowly sank into a chair after he had closed the door. She stared at her hands with a pale and empty face, and a single tear trickled down her cheek.

* * *

When Kili saw his brother coming he quickly removed his feet from the chair and sat up, looking questioningly at his brother. Yet Fili’s face betrayed no feeling whatsoever as he slowly sat down and then stared at the board.

“Your move, Kili,” he said after a while.

Kili frowned at his brother, but the latter kept on ignoring him. With an angry sigh Kili finally gave in, threw his dice and made his move.  
Fili kept staring at the figures in front of him. 

“Well?” Kili leaned forward. “Your move, brother.”  
After throwing the dice, Fili slowly reached for one of his axmen. “He’s going to marry me off,” he said all of a sudden.  
Kili blinked twice before replying. “Are you... no, you aren’t kidding me, are you?”  
“Wish I was.” Fili brought down his axe-man and pursed his lips. “Some distant relation of Daín’s, mother told me. I’m leaving for the Iron Hills tomorrow to start courting her.” 

Kili picked up the dice and closed his fingers around them. “Alone?”  
At that, Fili finally looked at his brother again, the ghost of a smile on his face. “I was hoping not to, actually.”  
“I certainly won’t have anyone tell me to stay behind,” Kili replied with a grin that didn’t look very humorous.   
“And I was hoping you’d say that,” his brother replied. “We’ll leave at dawn.”

Kili nodded and threw the dice. He stared at the numbers for a while before shaking his head. “I don’t believe this.”  
Fili’s lips twitched as he took his turn and moved his warrior. “ _Bâkhza_.”  
With a lopsided smile, Kili toppled his warrior. “You lucky bastard.”  
“Am I, now.” Fili was still staring at the board.  
“Sorry... I didn’t mean...”  
“No.” Fili shook his head. “I’m sorry.” Then he got up and patted his brother’s cheek. “See you tomorrow at the gates.”

Kili stared at his brother’s back as Fili left the tavern and shook his head before knocking back his ale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Bâkhza_ – lit.: Bam! Dwarrow board game vaguely resembling chess, but with dice. And a little more fast-paced.


	16. Chapter 16

Dwarrow workers from both Erebor and the Iron Hills had done a lot of work during the last two years in repairing and rebuilding the road between the two settlements. It took the Durin brothers no more than a few days to reach their destination, but with the bad weather they had faced during these days they were more than happy when they had at last arrived at the Iron Hills. 

Daín bade them a warm and hearty welcome in his halls with a lavish meal and a lot to drink upon their arrival and since it was late in the evening, they were given a chamber for the night to rest before the important day. The day where Fili would begin courting the woman who would become his wife.

Kili awoke in the middle of the night for no apparent reason, and after trying unsuccessfully to go back to sleep he got up and opened the door to the hearth chamber that connected his and his brother’s bedroom. He found his brother still sitting in the chair at the hearth, smoking silently and staring blankly into the flames. Deciding that he probably wanted to be left alone Kili did not let on he was there and simply went to bed again, but the haunted look he had seen in his brother’s eyes kept him from falling asleep for a long time.

Dressed in their finest, Kili and Fili attended to Daín the next morning, and Kili could see nothing but a slight reddening of Fili’s eyes that affirmed he must have spent most of the night awake. They made their way through the hall without giving notice to the many people who had come to watch the spectacle of a young man facing Glerin in ritual combat.

“I hope you found everything to your liking,” Daín boomed from his high chair.   
“We have rested well under your roof, Daín” Fili replied. “You are a most generous host.”  
Daín smiled benevolently. “One aims to please, my Prince. It is not every day that I entertain such high ranking guests.”

Fili inclined his head with a faint tilt and slight rising of his eyebrows, a gesture he had copied from Thorin. It had the desired effect; Daín dropped the empty niceties, gave him a nod and clapped his hands. 

“Now then, as I understood you have an interest in one of my kin?” His smile widened. “And a fine choice, I might add. She is a jewel, Lady Ysona, and I would not give her to anyone who asked.”  
“I am honoured then, that you deem me worthy of courting her.”  
“Well, of course.” Daín waved at someone behind him. “Although it is with a somewhat heavy heart that I inform you that she has a most worthy champion.”

A warrior stepped into view like Fili had never seen before. He was taller even than Dwalin, with a chest like a barrel and arms like tree trunks; they were bulging with muscles and covered in black and red markings. His face was almost invisible behind the mass of a beard and eyebrows, but a pair of near black eyes glared at Fili from the thicket as if he was a deadly enemy and not a partner for a ritual fight.

“My Prince, meet Ysona’s champion – her father, to be precise – Glerin, son of Glaran.”  
Fili shed his heavy fur coat and handed it to his brother before approaching Glerin. “I am honoured, Glerin, son of Glaran. Your reputation precedes you.”  
The bushy grey eyebrows twitched. “I gather you are aware that I wouldn’t give my daughter to a whelp that cannot protect her, prince or no prince.” His voice sounded as if someone was pouring gravel into a bucket.  
“I expected no less.”  
“Good. Let us proceed.”

The onlookers now cleared the centre of the hall and retreated towards the walls as a servant brought the mock weapons made from wood; it was a ritual fight, after all, and not intended for bloodshed. There was a set of two blades, one slightly shorter than the other, and a set of two matching axes.  
Fili picked up the twin blades and watched as Glerin equipped himself with the axes, each of which a lesser man would have had to use as a single, two-handed weapon. 

“Now, my prince...” Daín began. “Since you are aware of Glerin’s reputation I would like to point out that losing against him is no shame. He singlehandedly slew trolls in battle, after all. So this fight is not about winning, but lasting long enough to impress him.”

Fili nodded towards the battle-hardened veteran and saluted him with crossed blades. Glerin hefted his axes and nodded.

“Let the fight begin!” Daín yelled.

It was a spectacle of a fight; this was something everyone had to agree upon. Glerin was many years the prince’s senior, was stronger and had a larger reach, but Fili was a skilled, combat-trained fighter with the agility of youth. Kili stood aside from the crowd and watched his brother fight. He could only admire his iron will. Nothing of what was happening or would happen thereafter was Fili’s will, and still he stood his ground. Kili wasn’t sure that he himself could have been so steadfast.

In the end, as both fighters’ breathing was ragged, with sweat pouring down their faces, Fili actually managed to land a blow. By ducking under Glerin’s advancing axe and sliding around him, he narrowly avoided his opponent’s blade and struck Glerin into the hollow of his left knee.  
Delivered by a real weapon the blow would have hamstrung Glerin; as it was, he stumbled forward with a roar that instantly turned into a gruff laugh. 

He lowered the weapon as he turned around. “He landed a blow on me?” Still laughing, Glerin saluted with his axes. “I must be getting old!”  
His shoulders heaving with heavy breaths, Fili returned the salute with his own weapons and took a step back. “Am I deemed worthy, then?”  
The old veteran slapped Fili’s shoulder. “A man who managed to land a blow on me? Can’t remember when that last happened. Yes, my prince. You are deemed worthy.”

Fili handed the wooden swords back to the servant and went to take his coat from Kili, who had come to his side. “Well then, now that that’s settled...” He slipped the coat on and turned to Daín again. Kili stood at his brother’s side, matching his pose.  
“My prince.” Daín grinned at him. “Let me present to you Lady Ysona, the fairest in all the lands.”

The door at the back end of the hall opened, and flanked by a woman who seemed to be her mother, and along with an old serving maid, a young woman stepped into the hall. She was small and lithe, her face framed by blonde curls, but when she approached Fili, he was taken aback.   
His brother spoke his mind. “She is but a child!” Kili whispered into his ear.

Fili drew himself up; there was no going back now. She had to be of age, otherwise he would never have been allowed to court her, but his brother was right. She looked like a child barely at the edge of womanhood.

Fili also noticed, as the trio came to a halt before him and his brother, that the woman he deemed her mother had a very stern, displeased look on her face while Ysona’s eyes were slightly red and puffy. It seemed that she was as eager to engage in the courtship as he was. 

“Mylady Ysona.” He bowed deeply. “The descriptions of your beauty fall utterly short of what I see before my eyes.”

Ysona straightened her back and tried to give him a haughty look, but Fili could see she was pleased with the flattering. _Mahal save me_ , he thought to himself. _Don’t let her be a spoiled brat._

“May I present you with this gift as a token of my admiration?” He held out his hand and Kili gave him the small box he had been carrying. Fili now opened said box and presented to Ysona a necklace, a delicate weaving of golden wires looking almost like lace with blue and white gemstones woven into it.

“What a beautiful gift, my prince.” Ysona accepted the box with a grave face, a glint in the soft tufts of hair adorning her jaw catching the light. Tiny sweet water pearls had been woven into the strands. “ _Akhmân, uzbad-dashatmen_.” 

She held out her hand to him and with another bow, Fili took it and lowered his forehead against it. When he straightened up their eyes met, and he could, for a split-second, see a look of utter desolation in her eyes.

There was no denying that she was indeed a beauty with her blonde curls framing her delicate face, her ivory skin and her eyes the colour of honey, although he himself preferred his women stronger and more mature than her. But there was a fear in those eyes that unsettled him as much as her age.

Fili was able to keep his face at the feast that day, but the ale and meat tasted of nothing at all.

* * *

The first thing Fili did after returning home to Erebor was to see Thorin. He found the King in his study, now in the King’s Hall in his personal quarters, discussing something with Balin.

“My apologies, Balin.” Fili bowed and met Thorin’s eyes. “We need to talk.”

Thorin lifted his eyebrows, but gave Balin a nod who proceeded to leave the room, yet not without giving Fili a quizzical look before closing the door behind him.

“Sit down.” Thorin folded his arms onto the desk. “Whatever is the matter? You look... distraught.”  
Fili sat down and took a few breaths to collect his thoughts before meeting Thorin’s eyes. “I wouldn’t call it that, uncle. I’m appalled.”  
Thorin frowned. “Is she that unappealing?”  
“I am not talking about her looks, uncle. She’s a child! Maybe she’s of age, but if so, then only just. She can’t be more than forty, and she sure looks even younger.”

“Daín assured me she is of age.”Thorin narrowed his eyes. “Have I been lied to?”  
“I don’t know.” Fili picked up a quill and twirled it between his fingers. “She could be of age, but she doesn’t look it. And she doesn’t act it, either. But I didn’t get to lay my eyes on her before I had fought her champion, and I gathered it was too late by then.”  
His lips a thin line, Thorin shook his head. “You are right, of course. The only honourable way out of this would be to prove that she is, in fact, not of age after all. I fear, however, that it will not be easy.”  
Fili stared at the quill between his fingers. “She’s a frightened child, uncle. Is that the queen Erebor needs?”  
“No.” Thorin left his chair and walked over to the hearth. “No, of course not. But what am I to do about it now?”

Fili stood up as well and stepped to his uncle’s side. “Something is not right about her. And it’s not just her age.” He crossed his arms and looked at Thorin with his frown deepening. “She is afraid, Uncle. She is afraid of both her mother and her father; it was clear as rain and almost painful to watch. I was seated opposite to her at the feast and I tried not to be too obvious about it, but I watched her interact with her family. She is afraid of them.”

Thorin tore his eyes away from the flames and met Fili’s gaze. 

Fili sighed. “I asked her after the meal if she would like to walk with me, and she did... followed by her mother, of course, at a respectful distance. I tried to talk to her about her family, but she was... evasive. And frightened.”  
“Maybe she was not... overly zealous to engage in marriage?” Thorin lifted his eyebrows questioningly.  
Fili squarely met his eyes. “There is no need to tread lightly, uncle. We both know about my feelings, but I will not let myself be hindered in doing my duty by said feelings. And she... in fact, she asked me how long I would be courting her, as if she was more than eager to get married.”  
“To get away from her family,” Thorin said in a low voice.  
“It sure seemed so to me.” Fili took a deep breath. 

Thorin emitted a deep sigh. “So you are telling me that the woman I have chosen to be your queen is naught more than an abused and frightened girl.”  
“I know nothing for sure.” Fili met Thorin’s eyes again. “I only observed her for the better part of a day. But my gut tells me something is not right.”  
“And what do you suggest we do about it? There is...”  
“No, uncle. I shall marry her, just as planned. Negotiate an earlier date out of Daín, perhaps Spring Equinox. You told me how important this bond is between you and him, the Iron Hills and Erebor. I am sure mother can still groom her into a woman who can become the queen Erebor needs.”

Thorin remained thoughtfully silent for a long time, and when he looked at his nephew and heir again, his eyes had softened and a small smile was on his lips. “And that despite the fact that your feelings for Katla have not changed, as you have admitted mere moments ago?”  
“My feelings for Katla are my concern alone, uncle.” Fili held Thorin’s gaze unwaveringly. “They may hinder me in ever loving another woman, but they will not hinder me in performing my duties, and those duties include the responsibility for the welfare of my future wife.”

After a moment of silence, Thorin slowly placed a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “I do not think I can remember when I have been more proud of you, Fili.”  
Fili narrowed his eyebrows. “Am I redeemed, then?” He asked in a low voice.  
Thorin shook his head with a sad smile. “You never needed redemption. I have been most harsh with you, and I regretted what my brutal words made you do. Forgive me, please, that I was unable to look past that one single mistake, for I clearly could never wish for a better or more worthy heir to the throne of Erebor.”

Startled to hear these words Fili could only blink in confusion and it took him a moment to be able to meet Thorin’s eyes again.

The King and his heir stood silent for a moment, locked into each other’s eyes. It was Thorin who finally made the first move and embraced his nephew, and Fili clasped his arms around him in return. They remained like this for a while before they broke the embrace.

“I trust your words, and I have learned through journeying with you and fighting at your side that I can also trust your gut. Furthermore, I trust my sister will be able to do exactly as you say.” Thorin weighed his head. “Durin’s Day is the day after tomorrow, so it would be a good long while until Spring Equinox. I shall see if Daín can agree to a wedding around midwinter. What do you think?”  
Fili inclined his head. “I think it is a sound idea, uncle.”  
“It is settled then. I shall have to confer with your mother, of course, so it will be helpful if you can find her and tell her what you told me. We will then see what can be done.”

Fili bowed once and left the King, feeling strangely empty inside. He would have expected that at some point, the prospect of his upcoming marriage would rouse some sort of feeling but there was nothing apart from mild frustration and anger about the treatment his future wife had likely suffered. 

He should be angry at being married off as if he was nothing more than part of a royal breeding scheme. He should be despairing about having to give his oath to a woman he did not care for instead of the one he wanted, the one he loved.   
But the only thing he felt was mild satisfaction at having done well in the eyes of his King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Akhmân, uzbad-dashatmen_ : Thank you, my prince


	17. Chapter 17

_Thanu men_ : My King   
_Danakhbilis uzbadnâtha_ : Emerald Princess  
 _Khagam-banh_ : lit. Common father, meaning the father of my son- or daughter-in-law

 

Fili and Kili had braved the road to the Iron Hills twice more in cold and disheartening autumn weather until they had finally received the answer from Daín that Fili wanted to hear. Twice he had brought Ysona gifts and kind words, and had observed her and her family as best as he could. He still was not sure what was wrong about it all, but as he got to know her a little better, he realised that while she was very young, she was no child at heart any more, at least.

Now midwinter was approaching, and the preparations for the Midwinter celebration and the subsequent wedding were well underway. A wedding at midwinter, the darkest, shortest day of winter, would not be under a good star, so it would take place three days after midwinter when the shortest day lay well behind them.

Dís knocked and entered Fili’s halls when he bade her enter, and found him sitting on a foot bench at the hearth, bare-chested and barefoot and struggling with a comb and his still moist hair.

 _“Amad._ ” He looked up at her. “What can I do for you?”  
Dís put the garments she had been carrying onto the armchair and smiled. “It looks more like I could do something for you” she said and took the comb from Fili’s fingers. “I came to bring you the garments for your wedding so you can try them on one last time. And to tell you that the guests from the Iron Hills have been seen by the lookout and are expected to arrive within the hour.”

Fili nodded and bore the motherly attention to his unwilling hair with stoic patience. 

“I am very keen on meeting her,” Dís said after a while as she sifted a strand of his hair through her fingers. “From what you told me you seem to be somewhat fond of her, despite her age.”  
“When I finally could convince her she need not be afraid of me,” Fili replied after a deep breath. “I feared she would be a chattering and giggling nuisance, but when I allowed myself to look past her age, I found her quite easy to talk to. I guess we both had our reservations we needed to overcome.”

Dís swiftly braided her son’s hair with nimble fingers, despite not having done this for him for many years. 

“That you managed it is a good sign, if you ask me. A lot of marriages start with a good deal less.”  
“And only very few with more, I gather,” Fili replied slowly.   
“Not in the royal line.” Dís lowered her hands and her voice softened. “That I was allowed to marry your father is only due to the dark exile we have suffered. Had I still been a princess of Erebor, I would never have been able to choose, and surely not him, a soldier of no rank to speak of.” She turned away and ran her fingers through the fur collar of the tunic that was part of Fili’s wedding garments.

Fili now got up and gave his mother a thoughtful look. _“Amad?”_  
Dís shook her head with a sigh. “Would that you had been able to choose as well...” she whispered.  
“It was not meant to be.” Fili picked up the tunic and traced a part of the intricate decoration made of embroidery and embossing. “This is what I have been born and bred for, mother. Still in exile and a prince in naught but the name I could have had the woman I chose, but if this means that the dark exile has ended for good, then it is a sacrifice I am more than willing to make. I shall not risk the future of our people for the sake of my own desire.”  
His mother turned around, eyes brimming with tears. _“Dashatê. Thanu men.”_ Her voice was thick with the tears she would not allow herself to shed as she placed a hand on Fili’s cheek. 

“You would have done the same, wouldn’t you?” Fili took her hand and placed a kiss onto her knuckles. “You’d have married Smaug himself if it had saved our people.”  
“Without a moment’s hesitation,” Dís whispered. “And I would do anything if only I could see you laugh again.”  
A sad smile tugged at his lips. “Someday, maybe. It is as it has to be, and you know this. Maybe my children will make me remember how to feel joy.”

With that, he turned away from her to put on his shirt. Dís took the time to get her composure under control again so that when Fili faced her again, she could go about trying on his garments as if nothing could ever make her cry again.

* * *

All of Erebor had gathered to welcome the guests from the Iron Hills who arrived torn by wind and covered in snow, all together wet and cold and yet in good spirits. Everyone hurried inside and the welcome drinks were offered in the entry hall at the bottom of the stairs where braziers were glowing at every yard to get the chill out of the air.

“Damn good to be out of that weather!” Glerin boomed as he rubbed his hands while he held them over the glowing coals. “Cold enough out there to freeze your vulnerables to the saddle!”  
“Glerin!” His wife hissed, and the young man beside him barked out laughter.

His daughter, standing nearby, lowered her eyes with reddening cheeks.

Dís leaned closer to Thorin. “Fili was right,” She whispered. “She is more of a child than a woman.”  
Thorin nodded slowly without taking his eyes of his soon-to-be extended family. “And I sincerely hope her father had not much part in her upbringing,” he added drily.  
His sister suppressed a chuckle. “He reminds me a little of grandfather Thror.”

Before Thorin could reply to that, Glerin had spotted his future son-in-law and hollered at him at the top of his lungs. “Son, come over here and give us a proper greeting, where are your manners!”

Fili hurried to his side and offered a profound apology, a selected and polite greeting and a flourish of compliments to Ysona and her mother.  
Glerin seemed pacified. Dís and Thorin exchanged a baffled look.

“Where did my boy to speak like that?”  
Thorin crossed his arms. “I guess that, against all expectations, my lessons did not vanish into the void after all.”  
“That’s as maybe, but...” Dís frowned. “Is it necessary that the marked prince should grovel before this... atrocity of a man?”  
“No. But he is not grovelling yet, he was just being overly polite.” Thorin pressed his lips together and after a moment’s thought, he added: “But this is where it ends. Another one of those scenes, and I’ll have a word with him.”  
“Fili?”  
“No. Glerin.”

Dís’ frown had not disappeared. “I cannot imagine he is used to being reprimanded.”  
“I guess he had never dealings with royalty before. Daín is the Lord of the Iron Hills. I am King under the Mountain, and Fili is the marked prince. He’d better learn the difference.”  
“Who is this young man beside him?”  
“His son Glegnar, if I am not mistaken. Last time I saw him he was still riding his father’s knees.”

Dís nodded and both of them straightened up as Fili approached them with Ysona, her hand lying on his as they came to halt and bowed.

“My King, may I present you Lady Ysona, daughter of Glerin, son of Glaran.”  
Ysona bowed her head again. _“Thanu men. Danakhbilis uzbadnâtha.”_  
Thorin inclined his head. _“Azbadu Ysona.”_

Dís sought Ysona’s eyes and gave her a smile as warm and welcoming as she could muster. “Welcome to Erebor, Ysona. You must be tired after the journey in that weather. Why don’t you and your mother come with me, so I can show you where you will be lodging?”  
“I would be very grateful, _Danakhbilis uzbadnâtha”_  
“Please.” Dís chuckled gently as she took Ysona’s arm and led her away. “Enough of the ritual formalities. Lady Dís is entirely appropriate now.”  
“As you wish.” Ysona bowed her head again.

Thorin exhaled softly through his nose. Fili turned his head to follow his gaze.  
Glerin and his son were laughing about some joke and the ale was spilling out of their mugs while Ysona’s mother was visibly only too happy to go with Dís and her daughter.

“She sure didn’t get her bearings from her father,” Thorin said. “She seems well-bread and gentle.”  
Fili nodded slowly. “She is, despite her family ties. Her father and brother are clodhopping brutes and her mother is a nattering hag.”  
Thorin pressed his lips tightly together. “A fine addition to the family.”  
“Hopefully they will not visit too often. They seem not overly fond of Ysona.”  
“That may change when she is part of the royal family.”  
“I fear the same.”

Fili and Thorin exchanged a wary glance.

“If Glerin gives you any more trouble like the one just before,” Thorin said a after a moment, “then leave him to me. He may be your future father-in-law, but you outrank him by far. He’d do well to remember that, and I shall be all too happy to remind him.”  
Fili inclined his head. “Thank you, uncle. That man grates on my nerves like a shard of glass.”  
Thorin’s eyes quickly darted past Fili and back at his face. “Brace yourself, here he comes.”

Having reached them, Glerin grinned at Thorin out of the shrubbery on his face. Thorin had never seen such an unkempt, careless mess on a dwarrows face unless in dire circumstances and despised such neglect.  
“Glerin, son of...” Fili began, but Glerin interrupted him.  
“Ah, the King! Good to see you again, Thorin! How does the day greet you?”

Thorin lifted his eyebrows and cast a passing glance at Glerin’s outstretched hand. 

The grin crawled back into the beard as if to hide. “What? We’ve been together on the battlefield and we are family, _Khagam-banh!_ ”  
Thorin tilted his head. “Family we will be, after your daughter and my _nephew_ have exchanged their oaths.” The stress on the word nephew was unmistakable. “Apart from that, I suggest you refrain from any further ungraceful public embarrassment of yourself and your family for the sake of your daughter’s reputation.”  
Glerin cast Thorin a grim look and crossed his arms. “Are you quite finished then?”  
“Father...” The young warrior having accompanied him was indeed his son, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “He is the King!”  
“I see your son has more sense than you, Glerin. If I were to vulgarly familiarize myself with every man who had stood on the battlefield beside me, I would have no respect regarding my rank and would not deserve any.”

“All right then, my King.” Glerin glared at him from under his billowing eyebrows. “So you want to have every upright warrior grovelling before you.”  
“There is a difference between grovelling and showing a certain measure of respect,” Thorin said. “Regrettably you do not seem to know the difference.”  
“I am not sure I want to let my jewel of a daughter marry into such a...”  
“Father!”  
“And I am sure there are quite a few other families with unmarried daughters of a significantly high enough rank if you chose to withdraw your agreement and take your daughter home a shamed woman. Although I would not wish it upon her and neither on my nephew.”

Glerin harrumphed, but said nothing more. 

“Welcome to Erebor, Glerin, son of Glaran,” Thorin said with a benevolent smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thanu men_ : My King  
>  _Danakhbilis uzbadnâtha_ : Emerald Princess  
>  _Khagam-banh_ : lit. Common father, meaning the father of my son- or daughter-in-law


	18. Chapter 18

Having observed Ysona during the last two days, Dís could only agree with her son that she seemed to be hardly more than a child. At times, though, she could see the woman this child promised to become, and those moments reassured her that, given time, Ysona would become the queen she needed to be. She had, after all, a good many years yet before Fili would become king, and that gave Dís time to groom her into shape, as Fili had so fittingly put it.

Right now, however, she had to focus on the wedding and the conjunction of the two families which was challenging enough. 

Ysona herself was a sweet and silent person, shy and soft-spoken, in all the complete opposite of her father and brother. 

_And not really akin to her mother either, to be honest_ , Dís thought to herself as she compared the two. 

Lady Bradda was of the same slight and slender build as her daughter and they shared the blonde and curly hair, yet age had not been kind to her. Bradda might have been beautiful in her youth, but now lines were deeply engraved around her mouth and eyes, giving her the air of being permanently disgruntled.   
But when Dís thought about her husband and the kind of marriage she would most likely be in, she could hardly hold the bitter disposition against her.

Forcing her mind onto the task at hand, which was showing the ladies of the Iron Hills around, Dís, Bradda and Ysona headed for the large double door leading to the Gallery of Kings. After ordering the two guards to open, she and her two attendants entered what was now the throne hall of Erebor.  
A knowing smile on her lips, Dís waited until the initial overwhelming impression ebbed off. Seeing the large gallery for the first time, with its massive carved pillars, tapestries, the golden floor and the throne tended to provoke such reactions.

“The Gallery of Kings,” Ysona said in a reverential whisper.   
“I heard about the golden floor.” Bradda bit her lower lip. “But seeing it with my own eyes is something different.”  
“But where is the King?” Ysona gave Dís a questioning look.  
“He tends to work from his study in his halls,” Dís replied. “Currently, we use the Gallery of Kings only for ceremonial purposes. There is still so much to do, and so much to re-build, and a lot of things will most likely never be again like they were in the days of yore. We think it would be foolish to try and re-establish everything like it was before, as if the two hundred years of Smaug’s reign had never happened.”

Bradda nodded and looked up at the ceiling. 

Dís turned to her future daughter-in-law. “You have something to look forward to, Ysona,” she said with a smile. “It is here you will be crowned as princess, the day after the wedding.”  
“Why not on the wedding day?”Bradda pursed her lips. “She is a princess after the wedding, is she not?”  
Dís kept her smile firmly in place. “She is a princess once the wedding is concluded and the marriage is consummated.”

Ysona blushed and looked at her feet and Dís made a mental note to try and see if she couldn’t get a private moment with Ysona, to see if she truly knew all she had to know about the wedding night. As she was about to lead her and her mother back towards the main hall, someone hailed them.

“The Master of Ceremonies.” Dís waved and they met halfway across the hall.  
“Greetings, Lady Dís.” Balin offered her a deep bow and repeated it for Bradda and Ysona as well. “Balin, Son of Fundin.”  
“Well met.” Bradda nodded.   
Dís graced Balin with a warm smile. “Is this about finding Ysona’s affinity?”  
“It is indeed, Lady Dís.” Balin smiled at her, then turned to Ysona and her mother. “If you will follow me.”

The four of them made their way towards the Halls of Wisdom.   
“The archives,” Balin explained as they passed a large door. “Thankfully untouched by the reign of Smaug.”  
They ascended a flight of stairs and followed another hallway through pillars interspersed with doors.   
“The ceremonial chambers. I doubt you will find yourself here very often, Lady Ysona, but if you like, I can give you a more detailed tour once the dust of the Midwinter Celebration and the wedding has settled.” He gave her an avuncular wink. “It’d be my pleasure.”  
“Thank you.” Ysona smiled shyly. “I find this very fascinating.”

“And here we are,” Balin finally said. “The Lair of Gemstones.”  
They entered a large, octagonal room, at each wall a shelf filled with books. In the centre of the room was an octagonal table with eight chairs and on the table several likewise octagonal flat, wooden boxes that were intricately decorated with carvings and inlaid with gold. 

“Take a seat, my ladies.” Balin indicated towards the chairs. “I gather the King will be here shortly.”  
“The Lair of Gemstones.” Ysona reverentially touched one of the boxes. “Are the stones in there?”  
“They are indeed.” Balin opened one and showed her the contents. 

The box was separated in thirty-two identical triangular compartments, the pattern reminiscent of a star-shaped kaleidoscope. A polished gemstone sat in each of these compartments, each a different one and yet, all of them in various shades of red.

“We have everything here, from achroite to zultanite.” Balin seemed quite proud of the fact. “From the holy diamond to the humble feldspar.”  
Ysona’s smile brightened as she looked into the box. “And these all grew in this mountain?”  
Balin smiled. “No, not all of them. Quite a few have been collected from all over Middle Earth.”

Before Ysona could ask another question, the door opened and Thorin entered, followed by Fili, Glerin and Glegnar, Glerin’s son.

“Ah, we are complete.” Balin greeted the newcomers and bade everyone take a seat.   
“And don’t be nervous.” He winked again ad Ysona. “I’ll be doing this for the first time, too. Between the two of us, we shall find your stone, no worries.”  
He then produced a silken scarf from his pocket which he used to blindfold Ysona.   
“Just a word of advice,” Balin said before placing the first gemstone into her hand. “The stones come to you in no particular order. They are sorted after colour, not after worth or purity. Just listen to each stone, and find the one you understand.”

Ysona nodded, and held out her hand to him.

They had to go through several boxes before finally, exploring the box containing the blue stones, Ysona smiled and closed her fingers around the stone in her palm. “This one.”  
“You seem quite certain.” Balin nodded to himself and removed the blindfold. “Is this what you expected?”  
Ysona looked at the blue stone in her hand. “Sapphire?” She shook her head. “No. I expected something more... humble?”  
“Ysona!” Her mother’s voice was a whiplash. “Be mindful of what your rank will hold. You will be a queen, there is nothing humble about that!”

Thorin gave Bradda a scalding look and rested his eyes on Balin. “Sapphire?”  
“Increases mental clarity and perception.” Balin gently placed the stone back into the box. “The sapphire is called a stone of destiny.” Then the old Dwarf looked up and met Thorin’s eyes. “I have heard it being said that if Thror had had a Sapphire Queen, maybe the gold sickness would never have befallen him.”

Thorin took a deep breath and exchanged a quick look with Fili. Bradda seemed quite pleased, while Ysona was visibly terrified. 

Dís could understand her; it seemed a terribly heavy responsibility for one so young to bear.

* * *

The first time of Midwinter in Erebor after the Reclaiming had been challenging for all of them; the younger ones had never seen the rituals involved and the older ones barely remembered them after so long a time. Ori and Balin had spent weeks in the archives digging out knowledge and putting together the rituals, not necessarily exactly as they had been but as they needed to be now. 

By now, the third year after the Reclaiming, Thorin was able to go through the routines conversantly and easily, the words coming on their own as if he had spoken them a hundred times before.   
Deep down, in the holy Lair of the Roots of the Mountain, Thorin sacrificed his blood to appease the mountain, asking for protection and prosperity.  
Up on the mountain’s peak Thorin recited the age-old prayers to Mahal, asking Mahal to give Durin’s people his blessing. That being done, Thorin declared the festivities to be opened and the feasting began.

The Great Hall was where Kings had entertained guests and feasts in the times before, and it was there that the feast was still held. And with the size of the hall, the entire population of Erebor was able to partake in the feast. 

From his chair at the head of the main table Thorin let his eyes wander over his people and he wondered how many more years it would be until the feast in the great hall would be exclusive to his kin and friends and the other inhabitants of his kingdom would gather on their own. Two years, maybe three. People still kept coming to Erebor, even those who had no ancestry here, and the first child born in the mountain had been a cause of great joy. Thorin himself had witnessed the naming and declared himself the child’s warden. 

Thinking of the girl who was his ward made him think of the boy who was his nephew’s child; he who was his son in all but blood. A grandson he would never see again. And while he knew that it was better the way things were he could not deny that the pain it had inflicted on his beloved nephew had not spared himself, either. Sometimes, Thorin wished that no one had ever told him that the woman was a half-breed. 

Fili, aware of being watched, lifted his eyes from his tankard and found Thorin watching him. They exchanged a look and lifted their tankards for a toast, but when Fili put his back down his eyes wandered across the hall to the table where his future family-in-law was seated. 

Flanked by her father and her brother Ysona looked like a wren caught between two fat cats that happened to be too gorged to take notice of her for now.

Her brother now covered Ysona’s hand in his and leaned closer to whisper something into her ear. Whatever it was, it neither made her smile nor frown, but it somehow amplified the impression of her being a trapped bird. And it wasn’t so much as it angered him, but somehow the sight of her looking so afraid rubbed Fili the wrong way. It took him a while to identify the source of this feeling as him already feeling protective towards her. 

It wasn’t before the meal had been cleared away that Fili realised Ysona hadn’t touched her food ever since her brother had spoken to her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _There is supposed to be a lot of Khuzdul in this chapter but I honestly couldn’t translate whole lines of dialogue. I used indirect speech instead._   
>  _Hope this doesn’t confuse too much._

The morning of the third day after the Midwinter celebration was announced with the sounding of the ceremonial drums, sending the rhythm like the heartbeat of the mountain through the stone walls and galleries. 

Kili had suffered through his mother’s fussing about his hair and clothes in silence and was now, together with Dís, on the way to Fili’s halls.

They found his brother, already dressed and ready, hair and beard combed and unbraided, sitting at the hearth with a pipe that he was just putting down. He got out of his chair and gave his mother and brother a smile that did not reach his eyes.

“I gather it is time.”  
Kili put a hand on his brother’s arm with a sad frown. “How... are you?”  
Fili shrugged, cast a quick glance at his mother’s carefully arranged face and looked back at his brother. “I know how I should feel. Nervous, skittish, uneasy. Angry, maybe. Unwilling.” He shrugged again.  
“But... what do you feel?” Kili exchanged a look with his mother.  
Fili stared past them at the door and smoothed down the fur on his collar. “Strangely enough... nothing. Can we go now?”

Kili exchanged another look with his mother, but there was nothing he found he could say.

Out in the hall they met with Thorin, clad in ceremonial robes, his crown resting on his brow. Dwalin, Bofur, Gloin and Dori accompanied him as guards of honour, and together all of them made their way down into the mountain, into the ancient cave below the Halls of Wisdom. 

The almost circular cave was very small compared to the halls and galleries of Erebor, not higher than seven foot and about ten to twelve yards in diameter. According to legend Durin himself had been born in this cave and it was reserved for ceremonial purposes for the royal family only.

A pillar had been carved out of the stone of the mountain towards the back of the cave, but the upper and the lower half did not quite touch as if someone had cut a slice of about the size of an arm’s length out between them. Balin, dressed in his red ceremonial garb, was standing in front of that pillar and Ori, unusually well groomed and dressed in his grey robes, was standing close to him holding a large tray with parchments and writing instruments.

Fili took his place beside the pillar and turned to face the door. The slow, steady drumming was louder and deeper this far down and no one could dispute the name of the drum: Heartbeat of the Mountain.

Not long after the King and his family had entered the cave more guards of honour appeared; Bifur, Bombur, Nori and Oin this time. Thorin had wanted all his old and loyal friends to attend this ceremony, and the last four now entered the cave accompanying Glerin and his family. They all took a place on the opposite side of the cave and Ysona, dressed in blue and grey silk with her golden curls piled up in winding braids and her chin hair still dusted with tiny pearls, stood on the other side of the pillar. 

This deep in the mountain in a ritual as old as time, the only words spoken were in the hallowed tongue of the ancients. Balin offered the formal greetings to both families that were to be united and then addressed the bridal couple.

He talked about responsibility and duty.  
Talked about blood and family.  
And the sacred duty of preserving the line of Durin.

Fili and Ysona then each placed a hand onto the smooth, flat surface of the lower half of the pillar for the exchange of their vows.

Fili’s voice was strong and clear, resonating in the small cave when he swore to her loyalty, fidelity and protection. After him, Ysona’s voice was hardly loud enough to reach those standing closer to the entrance, but her voice was unwavering as she swore loyalty, fidelity and devotedness.

Then Balin called upon the witnesses. Kili stepped forth, his face uncharacteristically sombre and voice deep, confirming that he had witnessed his brother’s oath. Ysona’s brother then did the same for her.

The marriage contract had been drafted a while ago and the two fathers, or Thorin in father’s stead, looked the contract resting on the lower half of the pillar over and signed it before inclining their heads towards each other.

Then Fili was given the quill to sign and after him, Ysona; then Kili signed as witness for his brother and Ysona’s brother as a witness for her. With a grave face, Ori collected the contract again and, treating it like a holy artefact, stowed it in leather wrapping before placing it into a wooden case.

Then the moment had arrived when the bridal couple stepped away from the pillar to face each other. They took each other’s hands and their eyes met, and Fili was able to give his new wife a very small and gentle smile of reassurance. Ysona shyly returned that smile.

A beautiful pair they were indeed, the Golden Lion and his Sapphire Princess. The future shone bright for Durin’s line, not a few of the attendees of the wedding celebration said, and that from now, the sons of Durin would be crowned with gold from the moment of their births.

* * *

Upon emerging from the Halls of Wisdom into the main hall all the guests, from the Iron Hills, Dale, Laketown and Erebor, even a legation from Mirkwood, were waiting for the congregation and followed them, led by Fili and his bride, towards the King’s Great Hall for the feast.

Since the dawn of time these sacred rituals had been a private affair for the families that were to be joined, and the royal family being a part in those was no exception. After the ritual, however, there would always be a feast with as many friends and extended family as would fit into the halls. 

The banquet was a lavish affair and the tables bent under roasted meats, freshly baked bread, stewed vegetables, cheese, fruit and sauces, and several types of ale were available in addition to wine and mead.

As was customary the bridal couple left the feast after the meal, leaving the guests to get happily drunk while they retired to Fili’s halls, followed only by Ysona’s maidservant who, after arriving, vanished into one of the hitherto unused rooms. The ones adjacent to her room would be the nursery at one point, a thought Fili had managed to avoid thus far.

Ysona looked around in the main hearth chamber with its thick braided rugs on the floor and the large fireplace with two armchairs. 

“Let me show you around.” Fili took her arm. 

The hearth was just opposite the door to the main chamber, and two doors to the left led into the servant’s chamber and nursery, the one beside it into the necessities. On the right side of the room there was a door close to the entrance and one on the other end close to the hearth. Fili opened the one close to the entrance door and revealed a spacious room furnished with wardrobes, chairs and a table, a chest of drawers and other things, making the room something between a sitting room and a dressing room. 

“This would be your personal room,” Fili said. “If you find anything not matching your needs or wishes, please let me know.”  
“No.” Ysona smiled. “No, it is fine.”

With a smile, Fili then opened the door on the left that led into the bedroom, a large chamber with a hearth of its own and a large canopy bed, intricately carved, the red and brown drapes made from heavy brocade.

They headed back to the hearth chamber and Fili bade Ysona sit in one of the armchairs close to the fire. A small kettle sat on the hearthstone and beside it, two polished brass cups. After shedding his heavy leather tunic with its massive fur collar Fili filled the cups from the kettle and handed one to Ysona who took it with a nervous smile.

Hot milk blended with spices and strong liquor made from honey, a sweet and mild beverage only served to a bridal couple for the wedding night, it was meant to relax and warm the soul, reduce inhibition and enhance the senses.  
They sipped this in silence for a while.

“Tell me,” Fili began and leaned back in his chair. “You are only fifty-nine years; of age, but very young to marry. I have observed, but I might be mistaken, that you seemed to be very eager to get married, too. Why?”  
Ysona clutched her cup and stared into her milk  
“Ysona, you have nothing to fear from me, I swear.” Fili leaned forward and touched one of her hands. “But there is so little between us, so can I ask honesty of you? We have nothing else to begin with, and I promise you will have the same from me.”  
At this, his wife looked up and dared to meet his eyes. “Are the rumours true, then? About a child?”  
Fili took a deep breath. “Yes, they are. I am sorry, but I swear, there is no threat to you. She is gone, the child as well, and I gave you an oath. I have no intention to break it.”

Ysona removed one hand from the stem of her cup and, for the first time, touched him of her own accord, closing her hand around his. “I am sorry, too.” Her voice was low and gentle. “Did you love her?”  
Fili met her eyes again and it took him a while to answer. “I still do.”  
The pressure of her fingers increased. “Forgive me for taking her place.”  
“You have not taken her place.” Fili forced himself not to frown as he looked at their entwined hands. “I am the marked prince, meant to rule as a king and she...” He sighed. “She is a half-breed. It was never meant to be.”

After a moment’s silence, Fili looked up again, searching Ysona’s eyes. “We should not speak about her. Not tonight. Maybe never again.”  
Ysona accepted his wish for a change of topic. “What should we speak about, my prince?”  
“Maybe you could satisfy my curiosity and answer my question?”

Ysona blushed and looked very uncomfortable. Fili gently squeezed her fingers and she sighed. “You have met my father, you know my mother. It took years for my mother to conceive, and she lost the babes several times. My brother was born almost twenty years after their marriage.”  
“Your father seems very fond of him, is that why?”

A soft snort escaped Ysona. “He is the apple of his eye, and mother’s, too. It took them another fifteen years, and mother never forgave me that I happened to be a girl. Father more or less left her after that, they had separate sleeping chambers ever since I can remember. I could swear he wasn’t even aware he had a daughter until you started courting me.” A deep frown had appeared on her forehead.

“So they never had any kind feelings for you.”  
“No.” Ysona met his eyes again. “No, or at least they never showed me.”  
Fili sighed, and felt a faint surge of anger. “Every child is a blessing, to be treasured.”  
Ysona’s voice trembled slightly. “I am glad you think so. My father wanted many sons, and my mother couldn’t give them to him. I suppose she had hopes of winning his affection back, but when I was not the son she had hoped for...” She broke off and pressed her lips together for a moment before she continued in a whisper. “The only use she had for me was that my marriage would gain them privilege. She put me through endless lessons about being the perfect lady and the perfect wife, she dressed and decorated me like a doll and she...” Ysona shrugged. “She said I should look like the virgin I was,” she whispered. 

Fili felt the frown deepen. “And what did she mean by that?”  
Ysona hesitated and worried her lower lip.  
“What?” Fili leaned forward. “Please, tell me. I will not judge you or think ill of you.”  
“She...” Ysona swallowed. “She just kept me short on food.”  
“Short on food.” 

Fili put his cup down and, after removing hers from her unresisting fingers, placed hers beside it. Then he took both of Ysona’s hands and pulled her up. Standing before him, her eyes were level with his collarbone and she looked up at him, eyes misty with tears.

“She starved you, didn’t she? That is why you are so fragile. She starved you of food and of love.” Anger bubbled up in him and he had to force his voice to remain calm. “I suspected something akin, but... I wish I had been wrong.”

Ysona swallowed hard and with a sigh, Fili pulled her into his embrace. “Fear no more,” he said. “I swear I shall never willingly hurt you, yet if I do unwillingly, will you tell me?”  
She nodded and pressed her head against his shoulder.  
“Good. I have sworn I would take care of you and protect you. So for Durin’s sake, eat your fill or I shall feed you like a bird its chicks.”  
A tiny chuckle escaped Ysona and she looked up at Fili, a small smile on her lips. “Thank you, my prince.”  
Fili cupped her face in his hands. He had to admit she was adorable when she smiled that way, and he wished he could feel more than fondness for her. “Your mother might think you should look like a girl, but I like women who look... like women.” He placed a kiss onto her forehead. 

Ysona rested her head against his shoulder again and closed her eyes. “My prince?”  
“Yes?”  
“I know you would rather I was someone else,” she whispered. “But I count myself lucky I was given to a kind and handsome man.”  
Fili chuckled softly under his breath. “I suppose the prospect of some of your father’s acquaintances was not appealing.”  
Ysona looked up at him again. “Have you met some of them?”  
“I have. No need to elaborate.”

Their eyes met again, and Ysona swallowed hard. “I am lucky,” she said again. “Even more so now than before I first saw you.”  
Fili questioningly tilted his head, and Ysona blushed. “I cannot imagine that you have the need to...” The blush deepened. “To... that you would...”  
“That I would use you and not care what you feel?”  
Mute from embarrassment, Ysona could only nod.

“Fear not. But I fear that your mother may have given you the wrong ideas about tonight.”  
At that, the smile appeared, despite the blush deepening even further. “She has. But... your mother was so kind and asked me to a private audience, just to make sure I know what I need to know. And after I spoke to her I felt... less afraid.”  
Fili mentally blessed and thanked his mother for her foresight. “Have no hesitation to trust my mother. If you ever find yourself in need of advice or help that you could not ask of your man, go to her.”  
Ysona nodded slowly. 

After a moment of silence, Fili took a deep breath. “Now that we have talked about it... I will have you know that I feel uncomfortable about this, too. Not because of... my past, but I, too, have my reservations to do what lovers do with a woman I do not know.” _Not that he had known Katla any better_.  
Ysona hesitated for a moment, and her voice was trembling, but her face was determined when she answered. “I would have it behind me, as much as you.”  
Fili nodded slowly, it was inevitable, after all. “Ring for your maid.”

He headed for his own room where he undressed down to his trousers, then he sat down and tried to think not of warm embraces in front of a dying fire. 

When Ysona entered the bed chamber, clad in a long, white shift with a low neckline and a small bit of lacing in front, she found Fili sitting at the foot end of the bed, bare-chested and barefoot, smoking a pipe. He looked up at her with a crooked smile and patted the mattress beside him.  
Moving stiffly, Ysona sat down beside him and stared into the hearth, watching the flames. Her hair was undone, all the braids removed, and the mass of curls was framing her face and shoulders.

“You smoke a fine pipe weed,” She whispered after a while. “It smells lovely.”  
“Do you smoke?”  
She mutely shook her head.  
“Ysona, is there anything I can do to make this easier for you?”  
She looked up and met his eyes. Tears filled her eyes, but she smiled. “No.” She hesitantly reached for his hand and he closed his fingers around hers, squeezing gently. “You already do it.”

Fili smiled and got up to place the pipe on the mantelpiece. He held out his arms to her and Ysona shyly stepped into his embrace. They stood like this for a long time before Fili stood back and undid the lacing of his trousers. After shedding these along with his small clothes he straightened up again to find her staring at him with wide, fearful eyes. Trying to calm her with a smile he reached out and undid the lacing of her shift; it slid down her shoulders and pooled at her ankles. 

She stiffened in shame and fear, and Fili pulled her into another embrace.  
He could not help it, his body responded to her nakedness in the only way it knew. He held her until she stopped trembling and tried not to think. _Warm, firm hands closing around his shoulders._

He led her to the bed and gently pulled her down with him. She was rigid with fear. _A body, so warm and supple, melting into his._

He kissed her, though her lips remained unresponsive and dry. _Opening to his, welcoming him, warm and full of desire._

She finally began to relax and lifted a hand to his face as he buried both of his into her golden curls that smelled of musk and sandalwood. _A chestnut cascade of silk sifting through his fingers with the earthy smell of woman and wood smoke._

Fili knew how to please a woman, and at one point he let his body simply take over, knowing that he could not help hurting her. _It will be but this once._

He held her afterwards as she wept, glad for the fact that the fire had burned down and in the murky darkness, she could not see the tears he was desperate not to shed.

“Did I hurt you that much?” His voice was husky but steady.  
“No.” Ysona turned towards him and tried to calm her voice. “No, you hurt me much less than I expected. I... I honestly cannot say why I am weeping like this.”  
“There is no way back.” Fili felt the weight of his words both in body and soul. “I took you and made you mine, leaving the bloodstains on the sheets to prove it. It is as well that you mark me as yours. After that, we should no longer look back.”

Ysona took a deep breath and slowly sat up, kneeling in front of Fili who sat cross-legged, facing her. He had to close his eyes as she reached out and started to gently comb her fingers through his beard. The fire crackled and sizzled softly in the hearth as she braided his moustache, but with all the force of his will, Fili closed his mind and his heart. He no longer looked back. 

He felt nothing. And it was better like this.


	20. Chapter 20

When the two mothers of the newlyweds entered Fili’s halls the next morning, accompanied by the Master of Ceremonies and the Head Scribe, they found the pair in a scene of apparent domestic bliss.  
Ysona was seated in one of the large armchairs at the heart, and before her Fili sat on the foot bench, enjoying a pipe while Ysona combed and braided his hair.

“Good morning!” Balin greeted them heartily, mostly to conceal his mild embarrassment about what was to come. 

Ori beside him was less successful in hiding his feelings; he was clutching his quills and looked like he would rather be polishing the scales on Smaug’s rear end than be here to witness and document the events.

“Well, you know why we are here,” Bradda said, addressing her daughter in a sharp voice.  
“I do.” Ysona got up and Fili did the same, giving her mother a long, stern look that he held until she looked away.  
“Good morning to you, Lady Bradda.” Then he bowed his head to greet everyone. “Mother. Balin. Ori.”  
“Well.” Balin flicked his head, trying to smile. “Sorry about this, lad, but you know the drill.”  
Fili gave him a weak smile and shrugged. “I gather it would be less awkward if this wasn’t done by people I know so well and count as my friends.”  
Balin sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

The two mothers now entered the bed chamber through Ysona’s room while Balin and Ori went through Fili’s, to inspect the sheets of the wedding bed. Once it was confirmed and witnessed that Ysona had been a virgin and was no longer and thus the marriage consummated, Ysona’s maid would be allowed to change the sheets and everything would be in place.

“It is so humiliating,” Ysona whispered.  
Fili took her hand in his. “Try not to think about it. You have nothing to be ashamed of; everything is as it should be.”  
“Is it?” She looked up and met his eyes. “Four people sniffing around in our wedding bed?”  
“I doubt that they sniff it.” Fili couldn’t suppress a tiny smile. “But I understand. I, too, wish that my word in this matter would be enough.”  
Ysona straightened up as the doors to the hearth chamber opened again.  
“We’re in this together,” Fili whispered into her ear and put a reassuring arm around her waist.  
Ysona nodded and thrust out her chin.

“Well, that concludes things,” Balin said brightly. “Now we can go on to the more pleasurable part of the day.”

Ori, his ears still burning, quickly rolled up the scroll he had been writing on and after a hasty bow towards the couple and Balin, left them in a manner that suggested he would rather have run than walked.

“Poor lad.” Balin winked at Fili. “He better get used to this.”

Fili cleared his throat, he could not sort out the mixture of embarrassment and amusement he felt. 

“Since everything went well, I hereby welcome you into my family, Fili.” Bradda held both her hands out to him.  
Fili took them and bowed. “Thank you, Mother Bradda.”  
Dís showed fewer reservations and embraced Ysona warmly. “Welcome, daughter. I am so happy for you, although I must say it makes a woman feel old, having her children marry.”  
“Thank you, mother Dís.” Ysona´s voice was a little wavering.  
Dís now looked at her with a bit of concern. “Are you well?”  
“I am.” Ysona took a deep breath to steady herself. “I am just...” She broke off with reddening cheeks.

“Oh, please, my dear.” Dís smiled warmly and slipped an arm through hers. “I know how it feels, but your mother and I have been there, too. Put it behind you. And now, let’s get you dressed for your coronation.” She led Ysona into her dressing room, followed by Bradda, and Fili went and dressed himself while he let the two older women fuss over the new princess.

While he waited in the hearth chamber, he contemplated his situation, and found it could be worse. Ysona had lost something of her shyness, and she was not, as he had feared, full of shallow thoughts and mindless chatter. On the contrary, she was educated and thoughtful and Fili found himself entertaining the thought of teaching her how to play _bâkhza._

And while there was certainly no love between them, he found that he actually liked her, and was sure that in time, he would become very fond of her. Somehow, last night had brought them together in a way he had not expected, it had created a feeling of being in this together and together, making the best of it.

No, it could have been worse. He forced his thoughts away from the pointless musings of what could have been better. Only bitterness lay down that road.

* * *

After her mother and mother-in-law had fussed over Ysona for the better part of an hour she had finally emerged from her dressing room, and Fili could only admit that she looked stunning. Her long-trained dress was made from white and silver satin, delicately embroidered with silver thread, and her hair was partly braided, but flowed free down the back of her head. 

Fili kissed her hand before taking her arm, and all four of them made their way down towards the Gallery of the Kings. Admiring looks and whispers followed Ysona as she walked across the golden floor towards the throne; no one could deny that she had the beauty and the bearings of a true princess and future queen. 

After having reached the throne Fili let go of Ysona’s arm and positioned himself to Thorin’s right and Thorin, after giving him a nod, now slowly descended the steps from the throne and stood before Ysona with a gentle, reassuring smile. Ysona bowed her head and then knelt down, head lowered.

In the sacred tongue of the ancients Thorin then spoke the ritual blessings before Balin stepped up to his side, bearing the pillow with the silver diadem inlaid with three shining sapphires.  
He gently placed it on Ysona’s head and blessed her again before he bade her rise.  
Then his voice rose, and it rang clear and strong through the gallery, reaching into the farthest corners.

_“Ysona, nâthu Glerin, khagalalnâs'aban uzbadnâtha Ereborû!”_

Ysona slowly turned to face the onlookers and listened to their cheering and applause with a faint blush. 

Fili stepped to her side and took both her hands in his. _“Uzbadnâthaê._ ”  
Ysona inclined her head. _“Uzbad-dashatê.”_

Their eyes met, and Fili could see a sparkle in Ysona’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. He couldn’t help but smile.

* * *

When they settled down at the banquet table, it was the first time that Ysona was seated at Fili’s side. Fili watched her with a mildly amused glance as she looked around nervously until her eyes finally fell on him.

“Uncomfortable?”  
Ysona managed a shy smile. “No. It’s... I will have to get used to not sitting with my family anymore.”  
“And is that a bad thing?” Fili leaned a little forward and took her hand.  
“No.” Ysona returned the pressure of his fingers around hers, her smile growing. “No, it just feels... odd.”  
“It feels odd sitting next to your husband?”  
“No.” She chuckled despite herself. “You fool. It feels odd not sitting next to my father. It feels good sitting next to you, my prince.”  
“Well, that’s a relief.” Fili winked at her.  
“Are you deliberately trying to make me laugh?” Ysona’s eyes sparkled.  
“And what if I am? You seem so nervous and uncomfortable; I just want to lighten your mood.”  
Ysona’s smile softened. “I assure you, it is working.”

Before Fili could reply to that the food arrived, and again, Bombur had outdone himself and probably shortened the life expectancy of his kitchen staff. It was a feast worthy of the occasion, the crowning of the future queen, and Fili noticed to his satisfaction that Ysona, while she ate very mannered and elegantly, was indeed enjoying her food.

Throughout the banquet Fili was keeping the conversation going with telling her about his various friends in the crowds and their journey from Ered Luin to Erebor.

“You know, if it wasn’t for the simple fact that I could ask almost any man here in this hall for confirmation I would say half of what you tell me is made up.” Ysona shook her head with a smile.

“No way!” Kili, who was sitting on Fili’s other side, leaned forward and saluted her with his tankard. “We’re heroes! To the last dwarf!”  
He grinned at his brother and the two smacked their tankards together before knocking them back.  
Ysona had to laugh. “Sure enough! Surviving orcs, goblins, elves and a dragon, who else but heroes could claim that?”

Someone stepped towards their board, and Ysona’s smile instantly vanished.

“Ysona, love.” Her brother bowed and held out his hand. “We will be gone day after tomorrow, and I would beg you to go for a walk with me, since I won’t be seeing you again for a while.”  
“Sure.” 

All of a sudden, the meek, fearful wren was back and Fili, who couldn’t say anything against her brother’s request, watched them go with a deep frown.

“Seems not very fond of her brother,” Kili stated after exchanging a quick look with his own brother.  
Fili could only shake his head. “I can’t stand him, so I can hardly blame her.”

When they returned, not so long after that, Fili watched Ysona closely, but could not determine if anything was out of place. She sat down a little stiffly, and Fili could see her hands were shaking.  
“Ysona?” He spoke very softly. “What’s the matter?”  
“Nothing.” She stared straight ahead.  
“Please.” He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice even more. “I asked honesty of you.”  
“I know.” Ysona’s voice was a shaky whisper. “Please... not now.”

Fili leaned back and watched her, but she had put a mask on that he could not see through. She was smiling and picking at her food again, but Fili was absolutely sure that whatever had transpired between her and her brother had scared her badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ysona, nâthu Glerin, khagalalnâs'aban uzbadnâtha Ereborû_ : Ysona, daughter of Glerin, Sapphire Princess of Erebor  
>  _uzbadnâthaê_ : My Princess  
>  _uzbad-dashatê_ : My Prince


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning: Domestic Sexual Abuse/Incest being forestalled. Reader discretion is advised**

No sooner had they retired to Fili’s halls that Fili took Ysona gently by the arm and turned her to face him. Her face was pale and her eyes were wide with fear.

“Please, my prince...”  
“Ysona.” Fili tried to keep his voice calm. “I can see that whatever happened when you had that walk with your brother has scared you.”  
“My prince, please, it is nothing...”  
“And now you are lying to me?” Fili slowly crossed his arms. “Have we not promised each other honesty?”  
Ysona lowered her head and her shoulders trembled. “Forgive me, my prince.”

Fili heaved a heavy sigh at the sight of her. He gently placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head to look at her. Tears were trickling down her cheeks.

“Please, my prince, I beg you...”  
“You beg me to leave it alone?” Fili shook his head. “You go away with your brother, a man whom you are afraid of, as I have noticed before, and you come back in fear and expect me to leave it at that?”  
Ysona shook her head, but her voice was a toneless whisper. “I know you cannot.”  
“Then why don’t you tell me?”  
She stared at him in mute despair.  
“What has he threatened you with?”

Fili felt a surge of anger rise. He despised her brother, not because he had done anything to harm him but because he was the kind of man who rubbed Filithe wrong with his complacency and lack of manners, not to mention his lack of personal hygiene.

“Ysona, I know he has done something that scared you badly, and I will have you know that you are safe here. But if you will not talk to me then I cannot protect you!”

A small sob escaped Ysona’s lips and she covered her mouth with a hand as if she could push it back in. “And if I tell you,” she choked out, shaking her head with tears still spilling from her eyes, “then you will no longer want to protect me.”  
Fili stared at his wife for a moment in utter disconcertment. “What? What do you mean? What do you mean I will no longer want to protect you, you are my wife!”

Ysona shook her head, and took a few steps towards the nearest armchair. She sank into it and covered her face in both hands as sudden, violent sobs began to shake her.

Fili stared at her and was torn between trying to comfort her and going to find her brother to strangle him. He finally settled for the former and knelt down in front of Ysona, placing both of his hands onto her knees.

“ _Uzbadnâthaê._ I know our marriage was not one made of love, but do you really think so low of me? That I would cast you out for something you have no fault in?”  
Ysona suddenly looked up, her eyes burning. “Who says I have no fault in this?” Her voice was hoarse and full of pain.  
Fili took her hands onto a firm grip and did not let go of them even as Ysona tried to pull them back. “For some reason I am sure your fault, if there is indeed one, is not as heavy as you believe. Tell me. Please, Ysona, tell me the truth.”

He felt her stop trying to tear her hands from his grip and instead, hold on to his hands with a force that surprised him. He returned the grip and gave her an encouraging nod.

“Tell me.”  
Ysona met his eyes again, her look so full of fear and despair that he could not help but lift her fingers to his lips.

“Tell me, _uzbadnâthaê._ I am on your side. We are in this together, remember?”

Finally, Ysona nodded and took a few deep, shaky breaths to steady her voice.

_Her arm slipped through her brother’s they walked down the main hall and walked past several side galleries. He asked her about those, but Ysona didn’t know herself yet, so she could only shrug.  
Glegnar began to talk about everything and nothing, about the hunt he had planned with his comrades when he was back, the weather in winter, the spring floods, all the while leading her further and further away from the King’s Halls._

_“Where does this lead?”_   
_They were standing at the entrance to a seemingly abandoned and not very well lit corridor._   
_“I have no idea, Glegnar.”_   
_“I’m curious, how about you?”_   
_“I’d rather be on my way back. It is cold down here.” Ysona was beginning to feel very uncomfortable, and she was sure her brother noticed. “Please, can we go back?”_   
_“Just a peek. What can it hurt?”_

_Ysona felt his grip tighten on her arm as he tugged her along into the dark corridor. It was even colder in there than in the main hall, and the torches were much further apart. There were no side doors or branch-offs, just a long, dark corridor smelling of dust and disuse._

_Ysona’s fear grew when they reached a bend, from there on there were no more torches and the corridor vanished into the darkness. “Please, Glegnar, let us turn around.”  
“No.”_

_Her stomach dropped and she tried to tear herself loose, but his grip on her arms had turned into iron._

_“No, my beloved little sister. You will listen to me, and we will not be interrupted.”_   
_Ysona pressed her back against the cold wall and closed her eyes._   
_“You need not be afraid of me, my little bird.” He gently cupped her face with his large and calloused hand. “Why are you afraid of me?”_   
_“What are you doing?” Ysona could hardly recognise her own voice. “Glegnar, let me go.”_   
_“No.” He kissed her forehead. “No, you have to understand. I have been waiting so long, so long... and now, I cannot wait any longer.”_

_“What for?” Ysona felt his thumb running across her cheek. “Glegnar, stop this madness. Mahal will damn us both if you do not stop!”_   
_“I’d rather be damned than live like this any longer. I love you, Ysona, can’t you see that? I love you, and I have loved you from the moment you became a woman. Please, give me this, just this once, my sweet, little bird...”_

_He tried to kiss her and shuddering with revulsion Ysona flung her head around._

_“No, Glegnar, stop!”_   
_“I have waited too long...” Gregnar growled as he pressed her against the wall. “I couldn’t have you until now, because of that precious virginity of yours. But now that doesn’t matter anymore, and no one will know. Please, Ysona, please, just this once! No one will know!”_

_“Let go of me...” Ysona pleaded, her voice raw with terror. “Glegnar, let me go, you are drunk, you don’t know what you are talking about! Please...”_   
_“Ysona...” His breath was hot against the skin of her neck. “Ysona... please, please, I beg you, just this once...”_   
_“No! No! Get away from me!”_

_“I guess you’d better do what the lady says.”_

_Glegnar froze as the cold steel of a blade lightly touched the skin of his neck._

_Ysona dared to open her eyes, but in the darkness around her she could hardly make out the outline of another man standing behind her brother. All she could make out was what looked like crested hair, but maybe he was wearing a headdress of some sorts._

_“Go away.” Glegnar’s voice was a dangerous growl. “This doesn’t concern you.”_   
_“I disagree.” The stranger’s voice was cold. “Someone is trying to rape the wife of a dwarf I call friend. A princess. His own sister, Mahal damn you! Get away from her.”_

_“Or else?”Glegnar didn’t move and his voice was still dangerously low. “Slit my throat? What do you think happens when they find me? You think she will tell I’ve tried to have her and someone rescued her? Don’t you think I don’t know how I am damned? I know exactly what I am doing, and I know I will burn in the hottest fires of Mahal’s furnace. But if I am, I might as well take what I am being damned for.”_   
_“Not on my watch, I’m afraid.”_   
_“Get away from me.” Glegnar turned his head and growled at the stranger over his shoulder. “What will she tell when they find me? That her brother tried to rape her? She’d be cutting her own flesh, the King would have her cast out faster than she could say Mahal’s prayer, and all of our cursed godforsaken family with her.”_

_The stranger in the darkness was silent for a long moment, then the blade at Glegnar’s throat disappeared. “Go back into the Halls, then. I see I can’t just kill you, since I would never harm the princess. But I’ll be watching you.”_

_With an angry grunt, Glegnar spun around, using his full weight to throw his adversary off balance. The man stumbled a few steps back and Glegnar slowly pulled his sword._

_“What about I kill you and say you’ve tried to rape her?”_   
_“You are welcome to try.”_   
_“Or maybe I won’t’ kill you but drag you out alive, telling everyone you tried to rape the princess while I was having a piss in a corner. And what would you do then? No one would believe you, and my sweet little sister wouldn’t befoul her family’s name in agreeing with your version.”_

_Now it was Glegnar’s sword against the stranger’s throat, and Ysona clutched her throat in fear._

_“You’d have to catch me first,” the stranger said. “But even if you did, I believe I could handle being shorn and cast out of the mountain better than she can.”_

_He pressed himself against the wall and sidled a few steps away. A sudden scraping sound of stone on stone, and the stranger had vanished into the wall._   
_Glegnar jumped forward, but the hidden door was already closed, and the stranger was gone._

_“That took all the time I planned!” Glegnar’s voice was a frustrated howl. “That piss-poor beardless excuse for a dwarf!”_

_He grabbed Ysona’s arm and stifled her shriek with clamping one of his paws across her mouth. “Need to get back before someone comes searching. But this remains our secret, doesn’t it?”_   
_Ysona could only nod, too shocked to speak._

Fili stared down at his wife not knowing what to say. He didn’t even know what to feel. Ysona sat doubled over in the chair and wept into her hands, most likely expecting him to be ready to cast her out because after all, who would want to be married to a woman from a cursed family?

And yet, none of this was her fault, having been caught between an uncaring father, a bitter, unloving mother and a brother who was quite clearly sick in his mind. How could he punish her for that? But what could he do now?  
Fili realised he was out of his depth. He needed a confidant, and there was only one person he could think of right now.

He went over to the door, rang for a servant, and when a maid appeared, he told her to discreetly summon his mother to his quarters.

It did not take long for Dís to appear, and she silently closed the door behind her, looking worriedly back and forth between her son and Ysona who had not moved since she had finished her tale.

“Fili?”  
“Mother.” Fili ran his hands through his hair. “We have a... slight problem.”  
“I can see that.” Dís swiftly walked over to the armchair and knelt down in front of Ysona. “My dear child, was has befallen you?”  
It took a long time before Ysona answered, and the words sounded as if she was forcing them out against her will. “I am cursed.” Her voice was hardly intelligible through her tears.

Dís slowly turned to look up at her son, her eyebrows rising almost into her hairline.

Fili dragged both hands down his face and after a moment’s hesitation, gave his mother a quick summary of what Ysona had told him. When he had finished, he realised that he had never seen his mother so shaken, but she forced her face under control and got up.

“What are we going to do now, _Amad?_ ”  
Dís cast a look at Ysona and looked back at her son again. “That ultimately depends on how you want to handle it. You can find this man she spoke of, use him as witness to her accounts and accuse her brother. That abrogates the marriage, but I would understand if the poor thing would not want to dig her own grave in doing so.”

Fili looked at his wife, a woman he neither loved nor wanted, but to whom he already felt a deep connection since their wedding night, not because of what had happened in their bed but of what happened before and after.

Once she had been done braiding his beard they had lain down together, side by side and skin against skin, and talked, about so many things that Fili could not remember them all. But it had created a sense of togetherness, a delicate bond of trust, a fondness that he could and would not deny. He did not want to repudiate her to see her shamed and disgraced. And the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to protect her. His eyes met his mother’s, and the way she smiled, he felt that she had succeeded yet again in reading his mind.

He stepped over to Ysona and gently but firmly closed a hand around one of her shoulders. He felt her stiffen under his touch, but after a few heartbeats, she finally dared to look up at him. He gave her a gentle smile and could see a tiny spark of hope flicker in her red-rimmed eyes.

“The other alternative is to find this man, assure his silence and discretion and pretend the whole incident never happened, thus retaining her and her family’s reputation. But that also implies that you need to find a way to keep her brother away from her. Apart from that, Thorin must never know.”  
Fili nodded slowly. “In all, the fewer people know this, the better. I just can’t see a way to keep her brother away from her forever.”

Dís thoughtfully pursed her lips. “Maybe that is not necessary. If we can think of one person more to get involved into this, then you can assign him as your wife’s personal protector. He would be at her side at all times when she is not in your presence.”  
“Would it have to be a man? Could we not find her a maidservant or a lady as a chaperone?”  
His mother shook her head. “Glegnar could send her away on account of being her brother and wanting to have a private word. But her personal guard, he could not send away. Not if you assign him to her, and he wears her colours.”

“I understand,” Fili said after a moment’s thought. “Too bad we cannot simply do away with him.” He looked down at Ysona, but her face was empty. “Can we?”  
“I know I should not say this about my blood kin.” Her voice was a thin, lifeless whisper. “He is my brother, but I hate him. And I fear him even more.” She lowered her eyes again and anxiously kneaded her fingers. “He will destroy me if he is not stopped. He believes he loves me and has a right to my body. If he were to...” She swallowed. “I would not mourn his passing.”

Fili looked at his mother again.

“That is the third possibility.” Dís face betrayed nothing, but somehow Fili could feel that she, too, seemed to be in favour of this particular solution. “Glegnar would have to have... an accident.”

Fili looked down at Ysona again and closed her eyes as she laid her hand atop his that was still resting on her shoulder. She then rested her cheek on their joined hands and more tears slipped free of her eyelids.

Dís and Fili exchanged another look and after a moment, a hardly perceptible nod.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Kindness is in our power, even when fondness is not – Samuel Johnson_

Later that evening, after Dís had settled Ysona in bed with a relaxing draught, Fili left his wife in the care of his mother and went to seek out his brother. He found Kili in his own halls, in an armchair at the hearth, but his full-throated snore and the faint smell of ale told Fili he need not wake him up.  
He left Kili a note to come and see him once he had sobered up. 

Fili spent the night worried and restless, managing only a few hours’ sleep during the small hours of the morning before he settled down in the hearth chamber again, staring into the fire while he waited for his brother. It was quite early, earlier than Fili had expected, in fact, when there was a knock at the door.

“Who’s there?”  
“It’s me.”  
“Come in, brother.”

Kili, his hair and beard still moist from the cold bath he had treated himself with, walked in and closed the door behind him. A worried expression lay on his features as he sat down in the other armchair facing his brother.

“Something tells me this is important.”  
“What does?” Fili lifted his eyebrows.  
“That you didn’t wake me up but instead told me to see you once I’m sober. Has to be something darn important.”

Fili nodded and met his brother’s eyes before leaning forward. “Kili, I need your word that nothing I say to you now will ever leave your lips again unless you speak to me in private.”  
Mildly unnerved by his brother’s dark and sombre attitude, Kili’s worried expression deepened and his eyebrows drew together in a deep frown. “What under the earth is the matter with you?”  
“I can’t tell unless you swear.”

Kili’s eyes widened, but then he swallowed and squared his shoulders. “I swear on Durin’s blood that nothing we will now speak about shall ever leave my lips again, unless to you and in private.”  
Fili nodded, his expression somewhat relieved. “Forgive me, but you will understand.”  
His brother leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “I’m listening.”

“You do remember, don’t you, after the coronation. Our coronation, I mean. When you promised me you would be my right hand. My shield. My guardian and protector.”  
“I do.” Kili’s voice was low.  
“The question is,” Fili began, holding his brother’s gaze, “will you also be my assassin?”

Kili froze, but kept his eyes on his brother’s. He was silent for a very long time before he took a deep breath. “You would not have asked me this if this wasn’t a matter of life and death.”   
“Indeed not. And I would not ask you this if I didn’t trust you with my life and soul.”  
Kili leaned forward again. “If I ask who, will you tell me why?”  
“Of course I will.” Fili reached out and took his brother’s hands in his. “I wouldn’t keep you in the dark about this. You’re my brother, not a paid cutthroat.”

A tiny smile grazed Kili’s lips for a second. “Who?”  
“Ysona’s brother.”  
“What?” Kili stared at his brother as if Fili had suddenly sprouted a second head. “Durin’s balls... why?”  
“Because he lusts after his sister and believes that now, after she is no longer a virgin, he can have her. And I want him gone because the only alternative is pretending he never tried to assault her in the very halls of Erebor on the day of her coronation.”

“Fili...” Kili shook his head like a wet dog. “Is she... was he...”  
“No,” Fili interrupted him. “They were interrupted, and I have yet to find the man who interrupted them. She said she could not see him in the darkness of that abandoned and dimly lit tunnel, only that he was tall and had crested hair, or wearing headgear.”  
Kili narrowed his eyes. “That does not ring a bell” He blinked slowly, then crossed his arms again. “Back to Glegnar. Why not accuse him? You do have a witness, after all.”  
“I know.” Fili stared into the fire for a moment. “He’d be banned, his family’s reputation and ranks would be forever lost... and my marriage would be void.”

“I see,” Kili said after a long, thoughtful silence.   
“You do?” Fili lifted his eyebrows as he looked at his brother again.  
Kili tilted his head. “I’m not blind, brother. You may not love her, and neither does she love you, but I’ve seen you together. You’re only married for a couple of days, but there are already those looks you’re giving each other that hold a whole conversation. From what we’ve both been expecting when we first visited Daín’s hall, I’d say you could have done worse. A lot worse.”  
Fili’s face was empty of feeling. “Is that so?”  
“Is it not?” Kili’s voice had a sudden sharpness to it. “A woman you could bond with after the first night... If I were you I’d keep her, too.”

Fili’s lips twitched into a smile. “Seems like my little brother has grown up since his beard has come in last summer.”  
Kili snorted with mild indignation.  
“You are right, brother.” Fili’s face was serious again. “Even though a year ago I could not have imagined myself saying this.”  
“You’re at least better than me in accepting the inevitable.”Kili shrugged.  
Fili frowned. “Is it still that...”  
“We’re here to talk about you, brother,” Kili interrupted him. “And while I can say I know how to kill, I’m not sure I know how to assassinate someone.”  
“I’m not sure either.” Fili shook his head and stared into the flames of the hearth. “All I know is that it has to look like an accident.”

Kili thought about this for a while. Finally, he pulled himself upright in his chair and folded his hands. “I had a bit of a drinking contest with him last night, hence me being incapacitated when you came to talk to me.”  
“I fail to see how this is relevant,” Fili replied with a frown.   
“I could try and befriend him.” Kili opened his hands and stretched his palms forward. “I could imagine he’d love to have a friend who can’t keep up with him when it comes to food and drink.”  
“I’d dare say,” Fili said darkly.  
“Anyway.” Kili was warming up to the subject. “If I befriend him, then maybe we find ourselves out hunting together. Can be dangerous, hunting in the mountains.”

The two brothers exchanged another long look before rising from their chairs.

“I can only be grateful that you would willingly do this for me.”  
“Kill him?”  
“That too.”  
Kili chuckled mirthlessly. “You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”  
Fili pulled his brother into an embrace. “Without a moment’s hesitation.”  
They slapped each other’s back, and Kili left again, to find Glegnar at breakfast and humiliate himself before him for the sake of his brother, and his brother’s wife.

* * *

Fili was still staring into the fire when he heard the sound of a door opening, and looked up to find Ysona leaving her room.

“My prince,” she said gently. “Did you not sleep at all last night?”  
“I did.” Fili tried to smile. “But not that much.”

Ysona picked at the collar of her dressing gown. “I’m sorry I cost you sleep.”  
Fili got up with a sigh. “It is not you, it is him who does.” He held out his arm and Ysona hesitatingly stepped into his embrace. “Fear not. I will keep you safe. I shall protect you at all costs.”  
“Even if I am not your One?” Ysona’s voice was soft and low.

After a shake of his head, Fili rested his chin atop of her curls. “My dear, I would be a very poor husband, a very poor dwarf, indeed, if I thought the only woman worth protecting is the one I love. I like to think myself better than that.”  
“I never meant that.” She looked up and met his eyes. “I thought... well, I used to think you would not care. You are kind, and kindness is in our power... yet fondness is not.”  
Holding her gaze, Fili shook his head again. “But I am fond of you, my dear.” 

And even as he said it, he realised it was true. He would never love her, and both of them knew it; she would never fill the empty void in his soul, but she already had brought a little bit or warmth and light with her. He embraced her then, wishing she could be the one to heal his sometimes still bleeding heart, but he knew that she never could.   
In his mind, jade green eyes gave him a look of deepest sorrow.

All warmth vanished from him when he suddenly realised that he did not want to be healed. He did not want to lose that part of him that belonged to her. 

For he feared what would become of him if he did.


	23. Chapter 23

After the guests of the Iron Hills had left Erebor what little routine there was had returned to normal. 

Kili had made a right fool of himself at the farewell banquet and thus secured his position amongst the ranks of Glegnar’s friends, so he had been invited to accompany him and stay a while in the halls of the Iron Hills.  
Thorin had been reluctant to let him go although he had not shown it, while Fili had told him that his brother needed to enjoy his freedom while he still could. 

A few of the dwarrow of the Iron Hills had stayed, however, former refugees returning home with their descendants. One of those was an ancient dwarf even older than Balin, who despite having lost his eyesight went back to his old position in the archives where Ori treated him like a deity of some sort. The mind of the old dwarf was still as sharp as you could wish for, and he proved to be a wealth of information, the key to one of the doors hiding the knowledge that had been lost along with Erebor.

After the spring floods which had followed the snow melt on the mountain and covered the plains beyond Dale had retreated again, the first signs of life began to return to what had hitherto been the Desolation of Smaug. Patches of green began to show, a few flowers here, a bit of grass there, and in between, the occasional sapling tree braving the barren earth.

The land began to heal.

Inside the mountain, the rebuilding continued. There were still broken walls and pillars that needed to be rebuilt, the plumping and mine pumps needed maintenance and repair, and there were still vast expanses of the city where no dwarf had set foot since Smaug had taken the mountain. 

Thorin spent his days organizing the workforces, settling disputes and negotiating for trade rights as well as the establishing of food security. It wasn’t easy to feed that many people in the mountain when the earth that once had been tilled and harvested had been burned to ash. It would take many years and many spring floods carrying silt from the mountains before the ground would be fertile again, so all the food had to be bought and brought to the Mountain. 

When Dís was not helping Thorin organise affairs she would be in the Queen’s Hall, a part of the royal quarters, where she, her maidservants and the few ladies that were her court did the sewing for the royal household, as well as gold- and silverworks. There was also music and reading, but it was a long shot from the grandeur of the last queen’s court which suited Dís fine. After having had to work hard for her living for the better part of her life she found it hard to adjust to having servants to do the things for her. 

Fili and his wife soon found a routine that was born from the comfort of familiarity, not that they spend much of their days together. Fili attended Thorin, like Thorin had attended Thrain back then, and Ysona spent her days with Dís and the other ladies.

In the evening hours, however, they sat together in the hearth chamber, talking about the events of the day and everything that came to mind.  
Fili taught her how to play _bakhza_ , and as she got more and more proficient, they spend many hours playing the ancient war game, and Ysona’s occasional victorious laugh made Fili smile every time he heard it.

And while they did not sleep together every night they did so frequently; as Fili had discovered that after Ysona had lost a bit of her slender frailty he could enjoy her body more and more. Aside from that, the more Ysona freed herself from the suppressing influences of her mother and the habits that had caused, she was very eager to learn how to please him.

Yes, it could have been worse, he kept telling himself that, but as true as it was, he often noticed Dís looking at him with a sadness in her eyes that could only mean one thing: He could fool everyone, pretending to be content and at peace – but not his mother.

* * *

Kili returned from the Iron Hills for the Spring Equinox celebration, wearing Glegnar’s colours and declaring proudly that he had been called one of his most steadfast companions. No one but Fili knew that Kili was fooling everyone, too.

A day after his return, Kili and his brother met for a relaxing few hours in the men’s bathhouse.

One of the hands working in the bath house filled up the large tub with hot water, brought them towels and, after bringing them a mug of ale, left them alone again.   
Lounging in the warm water, the ale resting on a board that lay across the tub, was one of the few luxuries of Erebor both brothers couldn’t imagine going without again.

“So.” Fili took a sip of his ale. “How was your time with Glegnar?”  
Kili opened his eyes and shook his head. “Predictably bothersome.”  
“I’m sorry to hear that.”  
Kili snorted softly. “I guess it does me nothing but good to not drink all I can.”  
This time, his brother had to chuckle. “Our mother would be delighted.”  
“And I’m sure Thorin would be as well,” Kili gave back and had a sip of his ale as well. “He told me I’m irresponsible.”  
“Everyone is irresponsible in his eyes. Everyone who does not do more than their duty, at least. He’s working himself to death to keep things running instead of having stewards and accountants run these things.”

The brothers exchanged a sad and somewhat worried look.  
“I honestly thought he’d be happier,” Kili said with a sigh. “I mean, it’s not as if he had ever been a merry one, but he has stopped smiling altogether since he took that crown.”  
“He has taken up great responsibilities.”  
“And don’t I know that?” Kili sat up and looked at his brother over the board. “But why doesn’t he at least try and share the load? There are lots of dwarrow here in the mountain who could help him, not at least his sister!”  
Fili could only shrug. “I wish I could see inside his head as much as you do.”

Kili took his mug again and had a bigger sip.   
“Do you think talking to Balin would make a difference?” Fili lowered deeper into the water.  
“I don’t know.”  
“It’s because Balin is the only one he has always listened to.”  
“True.” Kili brushed a hair that clung to his cheek away. “Or maybe you should talk to him and ask him to give that burden to you.”

Fili narrowed his eyes. “To give me what burden? The crown?”  
Kili shrugged.  
“What makes you think I’d be a better king than him?”  
“I didn’t say that. But when Thorin never lets anyone take anything from him, what will become of affairs when he’s no longer there?”  
“I see that.” Fili sighed and took another sip of ale. “He’s trying to keep everything together, and in the end, everything will fall apart.”  
“Maybe not apart... but just think. If something happened to Thorin now, would you know what to do?”  
“Not by a long shot.”

“This is what I mean.” Kili leaned forward. “If he had people to do these things, if not for him then at least with him, you could rely on them. But as it is, you’re on your own.”  
“Just like Thorin is now.”  
“Just that.” Kili rested his arms on the rim of the tub.

“I doubt he would listen to me.” Fili wiped a few droplets of sweat from his temples. “You know how he is.”  
“Well, maybe we should talk to Balin then, but I doubt very much that he isn’t already aware of it.”  
“I doubt that, too.”

Their conversation ground to a halt then, and Kili slid a little deeper into the water to let it warm and relax his muscles that were still a little sore from the trip back home.

“Oh, and I asked Glegnar about women,” he said to Fili after a moment.   
Fili tensed. “What did he say?”  
Kili opened his eyes and met his brother’s. “That his One is married, but he intends to win her back.”  
“Win her back?” Fili ran his wet hands through his hair to smooth it back. “How can he win her back if she’s married? Is he going to challenge me?”  
“I doubt that,” Kili replied. His eyes were full of concern and worry. “But if I were you, I’d be careful what I eat and drink next time he comes to visit.”

A foul curse emerged from Fili’s lips before he could stop himself. “Would he really stoop so low?”  
“How would I know?” Kili shrugged. “He lusts after his own sister, how can anyone predict what he will do?”  
Fili shook his head with a low groan. “And I guess you haven’t come closer yet to what we talked about?” Not even here, in the privacy of the bath, would he talk openly about that.  
“Maybe.” Kili brought his tankard to his lips. “He told me they always go hunting in the northern plains in autumn as large herds of mountain goats come down from Ered Mithrin for the winter.”  
They exchanged a silent look and in unspoken agreement, let the topic rest for the time being.

* * *

A very excited Kili bounced into Fili’s hall the next mid-morning just as the latter was about to leave and meet with Thorin.

“We have a visitor!”  
Fili couldn’t suppress a grin, his brother suddenly seemed the young dwarf again he had been before they had set off for their quest from Ered Luin. “Have we?”  
“Come on, Fili!”  
“I am coming, young dwarfling.” Fili grinned at his brother’s half-hearted attempt at feigning indignation.

After they had passed the gates into the sunlight of a late spring morning, they were greeted by Thorin and Dís who had already welcomed their visitor. Two ponies stood peacefully a few steps away, one with a saddle and another laden with bundles.  
And from behind the latter pony now emerged what had to be the rider of the other. 

“Master Baggins!” Fili felt a true smile tug at his lips. “Welcome to Erebor!”

He and the hobbit embraced warmly.

“What brings you here, if I may ask?”  
Bilbo gave him his good-natured grin. “Visiting old friends, of course.”  
“And did you bring pipe weed?” Kili asked, excited as a child on Durin’s day.  
This time, Bilbo had to laugh. “More than even you can smoke, I trust!”

Kili realized what he had been doing and flashed him a sheepish grin. 

The hobbit was settled in one of the guest chambers in the royal quarters and dinner for that night extended into a lavish feast of welcome.

“Good thing you didn’t come marching in here with a dozen hobbits looking for someone to help you claim back an orchard!” A huge burst of laughter followed Bofur’s words and Fili realised that they had started the feast a little earlier than he himself, who had just now entered the hall with his wife.

Fili didn’t fail to notice Bilbo’s grin becoming a little less radiant when he noticed Ysona and the realisation dawned on him who she had to be, but it either didn’t bother him or he was good at hiding his feelings, for he was nothing but smiles and grins for the rest of the evening.

There was only one person in Erebor who learned of Bilbo’s true feelings that night, as he knocked on the door of her private chamber long after the feast had ended. A chamber maid opened and, on Dís orders, let him in.

“Lady Dís.” Bilbo bowed deeply despite the bulky bundle in his arms. “I... could I have a few words with you? In...private?”  
Dís nodded and gestured at her chamber maid to go. 

“Now, my dear Master Hobbit. What can I do for you?”  
“My lady...”  
“Please, call me Dís.”  
“As you wish, of course. I have... well, I think it is a gift, but I don’t really know. It was given to me with a notice that it should go to you, and while I know whom it is from, I do not know what it is.”

Dís gave the hobbit a puzzled look and accepted the bundle. “Who is it from then?” She asked as she unfolded the cloth.

Bilbo didn’t answer at once, and then, he didn’t need to any more. What it was, was a basket, a woven basked of reeds, sealed with wax and inside, an old and threadbare blanket.

Dís hands began to tremble ever so slightly. “Is this... is this what I think it is?”  
“If you think this is the basket of... ah... a foundling abandoned to a river then... yes.”

She ran her hand over the surface of the faded cloth of the blanket. “A keepsake.”  
“I guess so.”

Their eyes met and Dís heaved a heavy sigh. “Does Fili know you brought this?”  
“I had intended to inform him until... I saw him tonight at supper. He seems to be...”  
“Married, yes.”  
Bilbo looked at his feet. “Was it by his choice?”  
“No. He did his duty and married the one the king had chosen for him.”

They exchanged a look of sadness. “I thank you for this,” Dís said softly. “For it is indeed the only keepsake of my grandson I will ever have. And please... do not tell Katla about Fili’s marriage. I would hate to hurt her more.”

Bilbo swallowed.

“What is it?” Alarmed, Dís put the basket down. “What happened to her?”  
“I...” Bilbo began. “I honestly do not know. I found this on my doorstep with a note to give it to you. I went to her house to ask her about it... but it was empty.”  
“What?”  
“There was only the furniture left behind. She left, and not in a hurry, as it seemed. She took everything she could carry and her child and left. And she must have done so at night because no one has seen her leave. I did a good bit of asking around, but no one has seen her. It seems she has left the Shire completely.”  
“But... but why?” Dís stared at her trembling fingers. “Why would she do such a thing?”

Of course, Bilbo didn’t know the answer to that, he could only shrug.

“Fili must never know,” Dís whispered. “He will go insane with worry.”  
“I figured that.” Bilbo sighed. “That’s why I came here in secrecy.”  
“I thank you for your prudence.”

“Would she try to come back here?” Bilbo asked after a moment.   
“I would hope she has more sense than that. She would never make it, alone and with an infant.”

Bilbo and Dís looked at each other for a moment longer before the hobbit departed again on silent feet.

Dís stared at the small basket and only now noticed a piece of parchment sticking out from between the folds. She picked it up and unfolded it, her vision blurring with tears the instant she did so. 

Wrapped in the piece of blank parchment was a small lock of golden hair.


	24. Chapter 24

It was to everyone’s great surprise when Kili came back from another visit to Glegnar shortly after midsummer bearing an invitation from Daín for the royal family to spend the Celebration for Durin’s Day in the Iron Hills. 

Since he was family and one of Thorin’s oldest friends there was no question that they would come, and Fili knew he could under no circumstances stay at home with his wife without exposing their dangerous secret.

Of course, Ysona was terrified to go back to her old home again, and Fili did not make light of her fears. He knew, after all, exactly what she was afraid of and neither did he waste time upon telling her everything would be fine. Nothing would, and the only thing he could do was to do his best in keeping her safe.

They set off three weeks before Durin’s Day, as the royal household consisted not only of the Durin family and their servants but also of the dwarrow of the Company plus their respective families. A caravan that size was bound to travel slowly, and they wanted some time to get settled before the celebration, after all. 

An honour guard of three dozen warriors led by Daín himself met them a mile away from their destination to accompany them for the rest of the way. A lot of servants stood ready to take care of guests and mounts, but it still was an hour’s chaos and confusion after the party from Erebor had reached the gates of Daín’s Hall, had dismounted and unloaded their luggage.

Ysona kept as close to Fili as she could while trying not to look that way.

“How do you feel, apart from afraid?” Fili asked her in a low voice.  
“Strange. I thought I would be homesick, but I never was. And I just realised I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to go home, and home... home is Erebor.”  
Fili put an arm around her waist. “We’ll get through this. And with any luck, you will never have to come here again.”  
Ysona dropped her head against his shoulder. “Do you have something planned?” she whispered.  
“Not exactly, as we weren’t sure what will happen,” Fili whispered back. “But we have a few ideas. I’m afraid we’ll have to improvise.”  
“Please be careful.” She closed her eyes. “Please do not get caught.”  
“We won’t.”

The chambers for Fili and Ysona were generously spaced and tastefully furnished, something Fili had not really expected. But then, Daín would have been responsible for the assignment of guest quarters rather than Glerin and his wife, and he had a high opinion of the princes.

The welcoming banquet was a lavish affair and Daín proved again that he was a generous host. But Fili could well see that Ysona was not enjoying her food, and when he let his eyes roam across the hall, he could see why. Glegnar was watching her, and was most likely waiting for the opportune moment to try and be alone with her. Fili would not let that happen. 

“I gather you must be very tired, so am I,” he said to Ysona. “You could feign exhaustion and being unwell and stay in bed for a few days, or at least in our quarters.”  
“He is looking at me,” Ysona whispered back, her voice husky. “I can see how he is looking at me, and... I do not have to feign being unwell, my prince.”  
Fili frowned and leaned closer. “I will not stray from your side, unless I go somewhere with him and away from you.”  
Ysona nodded mutely.

“Come,” Fili said gently and took her arm. “Let’s get you to bed.”  
He helped her up and gave Daín a bow. “I am sorry I can no longer enjoy your generous hospitality, but my wife is not feeling well after the journey.”  
“By all means, go get some rest!” Daín gestured friendly at the door.  
Fili gave a short nod to his uncle and mother and, taking Ysona’s arm, left the hall with her to head for their quarters.

First when he had locked the door behind them could Ysona breathe again. She sank into a chair and closed her eyes.  
“My poor dear.” Fili took one of her hands. “You really look exhausted. I’ll summon your maid and you can get some rest.”  
“What about you?” She did not open her eyes but the pressure of her fingers increased.  
“I stay here, of course.”

After the maidservant had settled Ysona to bed and had left, Fili settled down at the hearth with his pipe. The door to their quarters was locked, and the door to their bedroom was slightly agape, and with his chair positioned that he could see both doors Fili lost himself in the calming ritual of filling and lighting his pipe with the finest weed of the Shire that Bilbo had brought them for his last visit.

But thinking about the Shire brought other, unwanted memories with it, but for once he did not force them away. He tried to imagine her, see her living in a hobbit house, happily watching her playing child as she went through some domestic tasks. He would have her be happy, but the thought of her finding another man and having children with him made the pipe weed taste sour. 

Fili sighed and leaned back in the chair. That he still missed her after so long a time after having been together with her less than a month in all. That it still hurt so much to think of her. He blew a smoke ring and frowned. Not here, not now. He needed to focus on other, more pressing matters. 

He spent the rest of the time it took to smoke his pipe to go through several scenarios to get at Glegnar, but none of the things he imagined seemed safe. 

He went to bed tired yet restless, and could not fall asleep for a long time.

His dreams were haunted when he finally had fallen asleep; haunted by jade-green eyes that had lost their light in death. He was back in her hut, but she was lying in a crumpled heap at his feet with a slit throat. Fili still had the knife in his hands. And outside, he could only hear laughter.

A voice called his name, and suddenly he was awake to find Ysona gently tugging at his arm. “My prince. You are dreaming.”  
He blinked and took a deep breath. Only a nightmare. He closed his eyes again and let his head drop back onto the pillow.  
Ysona’s voice was sad and gentle, so low he almost couldn’t hear what she said next.

“You have been dreaming of Katla.” It was not a question.

At the sound of that name Fili was instantly awake again, turned around and stared at Ysona with a racing heart. Her face betrayed nothing but compassion, however.

“I never spoke her name after... only once, in Thorin’s study. How... who told you her name?”  
“You did.” Moisture shimmered in her eyes. “You whisper her name in your sleep.”

The two of them stared at each other, Fili’s eyes wide with alarm and denial, Ysona’s soft with compassion. A sad smile played around her lips and she gently placed a hand on his cheek. 

“I wish I was the warrior and you the one I was protecting,” she whispered as she traced her thumb across his cheekbone. “I would bring you to her and make sure you’d never be parted again.”

Fili was at a loss for words and blinked away tears that were burning in his eyes. He took her hand in his, placed a kiss on her fingers and with a sigh, settled down onto the pillow again. Holding hands they looked at each other again, but spoke no more. They needed no words between them now.

* * *

Glegnar finally approached Ysona again at dinner the day before Durin’s Day. First he sat at their table, as usual with Kili in his wake, and engaged Fili in a conversation about hunting. At one point he asked his sister if she would like to get some fresh air with him, but Ysona politely refused, stating she would rather stay indoors as the trip had given her enough fresh air already.   
Her brother then simply proceeded to invite Fili, together with his brother, for the hunt that was set for the next day. When he left their table, Fili could see Ysona sag with relief.

He kept an eye on him after, even more so than he had already done in the preceding days; but he knew his brother was shadowing him so Glegnar was watched by both of them. 

It was late in the night when they retired, and just as Fili was stopped by one of Glerin’s men who was organizing the hunt, and after Ysona went on ahead without him, he noticed Glegnar walking past.

After having answered several questions about position, hunting style and preferred weapons, things that seemed terribly insignificant to Fili, as if it was a ruse to hold him up, he cautiously followed his wife and her brother. He could hear their voices as he rounded a corner, and after a few steps more, he could also understand them.

“No, you won’t scream. For the same reason you didn’t last time. I am not going to do anything anyway, I’m not stupid. Your prince is going to be here anytime now.”  
He paused, as if to listen and Fili pressed himself against the wall to remain unheard.  
“I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t spill our little secret, little bird.”  
Ysona’s voice was shaky, but she was audibly fighting for control. “I do not keep any secrets from my husband,” she said stiffly. 

Fili decided to intervene before Glegnar would get aggressive. Stepping around the corner, he saw Glegnar stepping hastily away from his sister. He graced him with a frown and took Ysona’s arm who clung to him as if her legs had no bones anymore.

“I bid you a good night,” Fili said to his brother-in-law. “And look forward to the hunt tomorrow.”  
Glegnar nodded, bade them a good night as well and vanished around the corner.

“Don’t leave me alone tomorrow,” Ysona whispered fearfully.   
“Glegnar is out hunting with us, you should be safe enough.” Fili settled her onto a chair and took her hands in his. “But go to my mother, and do not leave her side. She will be with your mother, of course, but I still gather a few hours in her company are preferable to...”  
“Do not speak of it, please.” Ysona closed her eyes. She seemed to want to say more, so Fili waited, and indeed, she finally opened her eyes and looked at him.

“Will he come back?” she whispered.  
Fili exhaled softly. “Not if I can help it.”  
Ysona simply nodded and closed her eyes again.

* * *

With dawn the next day all the hunters gathered in the hall where they were briefed and divided into several groups. Scouts had been sent out the day before to track the herds, and in a minute plan of which group was to close in on the herd from where, the hunt, if successful, would provide the meat for the celebration and would last long into the winter after that. 

Fili and Kili met outside where the groups gathered together. They discovered they were in the same group, but so was Glegnar. Standing side by side, the reins in hands, the two brothers waited for the signal to mount.

“I noticed Glegnar didn’t drink that much last night,” Fili whispered to his brother.  
“No.” Kili looked around. “He was talking about nothing but the hunt.”  
“I wonder,” Fili began. “I wonder if he plans to shoot me and claim it was an accident.”  
Kili shrugged and shook his head. “I’ll be watching your back. And him. You just go and enjoy the hunt while I play the idiot who is too stupid to use a bow.”

Fili was about to thank him but at that moment, the hunters were ordered to mount. Setting off at a trot the hunters followed their scouts through the foggy dawn heading north. 

As Fili cast a look to the west he could see the solitary peak of the Lonely Mountain, and behind it, stretching from west to north, the pale blue ribbon on the horizon that were the mountains of Ered Mithrin. To the west he could more sense than see the faint outline of the Misty Mountains, and his memory was drawn back to the days of their journey.

A sharp cry of warning tore him out of his musings and he looked up to see the scout gesture with Glegnar.

“What is that about?” Kili leaned forward.   
Another hunter a few yards ahead had heard his question and turned in the saddle to answer. “The scout apparently has seen orc tracks, but they’re not fresh. The hunt continues as planned.”  
“Orcs?” Kili frowned and the two brothers exchanged a worried look. “This far south?”

The rider who had answered Kili’s question had waited for them to close the gap on him. “They’ve always been up in Ered Mithrin, and we quite often find them down here,” he said to the brothers. “They are after the same thing as we are.” He spat out. “The meat.”

The sun rose above the horizon now and cast a golden halo onto the shrouds of fog that drifted across the plains like ghostly shapes. A few shallow streams ran through the heath here and there, marked by small trees and shrubbery lining their banks. They continued riding north, crossing several such streams at places where the shrubbery allowed their ponies passage. 

It was midmorning when they finally spotted the herds, and they quickly arranged their position. Now all that remained was to wait for the signal of the hunters to the south, to start driving the herds towards their waiting arrows.

They didn’t have to wait long before the thin column of smoke rose far south that signalled the beginning of the hunt. 

The mounted hunters began to move south, and as the scouts guided their groups they began to merge into a long line, herding their prey slowly together and southwards. 

Fili had been watching Glegnar as much as he could, but the burly dwarf had not graced him with a single look. Fili wondered if he had done him wrong in suspecting him of trying to kill him or if he was just biding his time, but then the horn blared, the ring was closed, and the hunters sped their ponies into a gallop, screaming and yelling at the top of their lungs. The herds panicked and broke into a stampede, taking the only direction that was left. South, towards the waiting hunters.

Having set the herd in motion the riders had then to make sure they kept their course, they were not to come too close to the other hunters to avoid accidents.

Reining in his pony Fili had a look around to find his brother. They had just passed a copse of firs aside a stream and Fili turned around in the saddle to find his brother heading for him. Just as Fili was about to greet him, Kili’s face went white, and Fili spun around in the saddle. A warg sprang free from the undergrowth off the copse.

 _“Rukhas!_ ” Fili unsheathed his sword and spurred his pony into a gallop. _“Rukhas! Remenu! Remenu!!”_  
At that moment Fili and Kili heard screams of alarm from the other side of the copse. Kili felled the warg with two shots and the two brothers galloped around the trees to join the fighting.

A black arrow with black fletching hissed by and buried itself into a tree trunk. Fili, intent on joining the fight, failed to notice at that moment that his brother fell the tiniest bit behind. 

Kili was at his side again when they entered the fight and together they hacked their way through their enemies who, outnumbered though they were, had already felled two of the hunters in their surprise attack. 

Another arrow hit the pony of the dwarf beside Fili and mount and rider went down screaming.

“Kili!” Fili yelled. “The archer’s behind those trees!”

To get into the cops they had to dismount, and the two of them ran as fast as they could to put down the orcish archer before he could kill any more of their numbers.

The evergreen branches of the northern firs blocked out most of the light and just as Fili looked up to make sure he kept close to his brother, he stumbled over a root and lost his footing. Cursing and swearing he rolled a few feet down the slope towards the stream before he could get his feet under him again.

He stood up and looked directly at the tip of a blade.

“Such a shame.” Glegnar smiled thinly. “That the marked prince of Erebor should fall on Durin’s Day, killed by ambushing orcs.  
Breathing heavily, Fili stared at the blade and then at Glegnar. He had lost his own sword in his fall, but just as he wondered if he was fast enough to send a throwing knife into his skull, something black hissed past. 

Glegnar’s eyes widened, and a single, thin trickle of blood ran down his throat where the black orcish arrow was buried in his flesh. The sword fell out of unresisting hands and he slowly toppled to the ground, landing face first in the stream. 

Fili crouched and very slowly looked up. He had had not forgotten the orcish archer and was acutely aware of his defenceless position. He was next... 

...but the next arrow never came. 

Hefting a throwing knife Fili slowly got up and very slowly, crept up the slope.  
“Fili! Are you all right?”  
Fili’s breath escaped him in a huff. “Kili! Durin’s balls, I thought you were the orc.”  
“Well... yes and no.”Kili’s face was grim.

Fili frowned, then he slowly turned his head to look at Glegnar’s corpse. The black arrow stuck in his throat, a neat shot that had killed him instantly. The brother’s eyes met again, and Fili slowly walked to his brother and embraced him. 

“It’s over now,” Kili whispered. “And no one will ever know.”  
Fili nodded and after a moment of silence, the two of them retrieved Glegnar’s corpse and dragged him out of the copse.

* * *

The hunters returned before sunset, but the lack of victorious smiles and cheering alarmed the dwarrow who had been waiting for their return. Fili and Kili sped up their ponies and dismounted close to the gates. Daín came hurrying towards them. 

“What is wrong? What happened?”  
Fili turned around with a sigh. Daín, of course, had seen his hair, messed and full of dirt and twigs, and he also saw four ponies were being led by the reins and had their riders lying across the saddle.  
“We were ambushed by orcs, Daín.” Fili brushed a few hairs from his face. “They were hiding in a copse of firs and they had wargs, too.”

“Mahal have mercy.” Daín shook his head. “There will be no merriment in my halls tonight.”

“My prince!”  
Fili looked up to find Ysona running up to him. She threw herself into his arms and embraced him, but immediately leaned back to check if he was hurt. “Are you wounded? Are you hurt?”  
“I am all right, Ysona.” Fili looked back to where the four fallen dwarrow were being gently lifted to the ground. “But I’m afraid your brother didn’t make it.”

He could feel Ysona go to pieces in his embrace, but he knew that her tears were not shed from sorrow. He still held her and let her weep, feeling finally safe in the knowledge that her worst nightmare had finally ended.

“Glegnar?”

Fili lifted his head to see Dís and Bradda who had been following Ysona. Bradda was close to panic. 

“Glegnar? Where is my son? Fili, where is my son?”

Fili took a deep breath. No, he did not feel glee about Glegnar’s death. And while he didn’t particularly like Bradda, he would not have willingly hurt her that way. But he had been given no choice.

“I’m sorry, mother Bradda.” He swallowed. “There was... they had an archer. I tried, but I was too late.”

Dís managed to catch Bradda who collapsed into her arms with loud, keening sobs of sorrow. 

Fili and Ysona remained in their tight embrace, watching her parents kneel beside their only son and heir, listening to Bradda’s and Glerin’s desperate sobs. Glerin’s bloodline had been ended that day.

After the dead had been carried inside and wounds had been treated, Dís, Fili and Ysona also made their way back in when Thorin walked up to them. 

“Fili. A word in private, if I may.”

Dís took Ysona’s arm and gave her son a nod before leading her away.

Thorin remained silent until they were alone. Then he looked at Fili as if searching his face for something. 

“Thorin?”  
Thorin crossed his hands behind his back. “Are you still bedding her?”  
“What?” Fili crossed his arms. “Is that your business?”  
“Partly. Because a man I have tasked with charting secret doors and hidden tunnels has brought something very unpleasant to my attention.”  
Fili felt his face drain of all colour. “And what will you do now?” he asked hoarsely.

Thorin placed a hand onto Fili’s shoulder. “What I have done so far. Nothing.”  
“But then why...” Fili swallowed. “If you knew...”  
“I wanted to see how you would handle this situation. When Nori...”  
“Nori?” Despite himself, Fili had to chuckle. “Nori was the one who saved her?”

“He is a dwarf who knows right from wrong, even if he at times chooses to ignore it.” Thorin tilted his head. “When he told me what had transpired, I waited for the scandal, but that scandal never happened. So I knew you had decided to keep it a secret, and I was eager to see what kind of solution you would come up with. Tell me, Fili... did Glegnar die by an orcish arrow?”  
“He did, Thorin. But that arrow was not shot by an orc.”  
“I see.”

The wind tugged at Fili’s hair and it tickled his face, but he could only look at Thorin. His King, clad in robes of fur and leather, the crown resting on his brow. His uncle, having been a father to him ever since his own father had died. He had always thought he knew him, but at that moment, he realised that he had no idea who this dwarf in front of him was. Not any longer.

“It is a dire thing, the broken end of a bloodline. Glerin’s pain will never leave him, for there is no one to carry on the torch handed to him by his forefathers.” He paused, and met Fili’s eyes again. “But I have to admit, Glegnar’s death makes the world a better place.”  
Fili met Thorin’s gaze and squared his shoulders. “Yes, it does. And while I understand Glerin’s grief, I had to do what I did to protect my own family.”

A faint smile showed on Thorin’s face. “We all do what we think is best. Yet only time will tell if we were right.”

Fili sensed that there was more to Thorin’s words, and then realised what he meant. But before he could say anything, Thorin had draped an arm around his shoulder and they were walking back towards the gates in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Rukhas! Remenu!_ : Orcs! To arms!


	25. Chapter 25

There was no feast that night to celebrate Durin’s Day. There was no laughter, no merriment, no drinks and no gifts. Dinner was a quiet, hushed affair, and more than half the seats in Daín’s hall remained unoccupied. 

The delegation from Erebor stayed for the funerals the next day and headed home after that to leave the dwarrow in the Iron Hills to their mourning. The weather seemed eager to match the mood, and a cold, grey sky kept up a constant drizzle; leaving nothing remaining dry after a few days.

Out of respect for the dead they didn’t catch up on a celebration for Durin’s in the great halls of the king the next day, but in family gatherings without large feasting and drinking. 

The Durin family had gathered in the king’s private quarters where they shared a meal and exchanged their gifts, and after a few hours of nothing but talking and drinking very sparsely, everyone retreated to private halls or chambers, the tiredness from the uncomfortable and exhausting journey reducing the mood to celebrate even more.

After Fili and Ysona had reached their halls where the fire in the hearth was blazing, Ysona looked around with a smile that Fili had never seen before.   
He gave her a questioning look, paired with a tiny smile of his own.

“I cannot tell you how I feel,” Ysona said. “It is as if... as if I have had an iron ring around my chest my entire life, and suddenly, it is gone. I know I should share my family’s grief, if not for Glegnar’s death than at least for the termination of the bloodline. But I can feel nothing but relief.”  
Fili felt his heart warm at the sight of Ysona’s smile. “You did little but suffer at their hands. I will not think ill of you if you rejoice in your freedom.”

Ysona laughed, a blithe, merry laugh, and embraced Fili firmly. “I cannot thank you enough my prince.”  
“For disposing of your brother?” Fili closed his arms around her waist.  
“For setting me free.”

Their eyes met, and Ysona’s merry smile suddenly softened. “And now, I have another gift for you.”  
“Another gift?” Fili raised his eyebrows. “I am quite content with the fine gift you already gave me.”

Ysona lowered her eyes, yet her smile stayed. Her cheeks were rosy, something Fili had never seen before, and he could not help but think how pretty she looked when her honey-coloured eyes searched his face again. 

“I wanted to give you this in private,” she said softly and took one of his hands in hers. “In fact, I’ve had it for some time now, but now, you shall have it.” Her smile was soft and her eyes shone with tender feelings as she placed Fili’s hand on her stomach, below the navel.

At first, Fili failed to comprehend, but when he did, he felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under him. An incredulous, ridiculously happy grin spread on his face despite himself, and he could feel his heart beat faster. He embraced Ysona firmly, and felt a little warmth in his chest, a tiny spark of joy lighting up the darkness he had thought would be eternal. 

He leaned back and kissed Ysona’s forehead.

 _“Uzbadnâthaê._ Do you know how precious you are to me?”  
Ysona placed a hand onto Fili’s cheek. “Enough that you would risk everything to keep me safely at your side, _uzbad-dashatê._ ”

They embraced again and shared a fond kiss before heading to bed. Fili remained awake for some time after Ysona had fallen asleep, and he watched her relaxed and soft face, her eyes covered by long, amber coloured lashes. One of her curls was hanging across her cheek and trembling with every breath she took, and he reached out and gently brushed it back with his forefinger.

His smile had not yet left him, and as he lay there watching his beautiful, pregnant wife sleep peacefully, he realised that there was a small bit of warmth in him, a warmth he had not felt in years.  
Maybe he was beginning to heal, after all.

* * *

When Fili came back to his halls the next evening he found Ysona sitting at the hearth with a large, white piece of cloth on her lap. The needle in her slender fingers went deftly up and down through the fabric and Fili found himself watching her hands as she worked. He slowly walked towards the hearth and lowered himself into the other chair.

“Good evening, my prince. How was your day?”   
“Better than usual.” Fili stretched out his legs and took his pipe and pipe weed pouch from the mantelpiece. “There was not much to do, and I spent half the day in the forge.”

He lit himself a pipe and noticed Ysona’s hands had ceased their needlework. 

“In the forge? What would a prince do in the forge?”  
He chuckled at her mildly puzzled expression. “I may be a prince, but I am of Durin’s line. We are born with a hammer in our hands.”  
Ysona cocked one eyebrow. “That sounds painful.”

They shared a gentle laugh. 

“The fact is,” Fili explained as he leaned back into the chair and exhaled a long, drawn out cloud, “that Durin himself started his life in the forge.”  
“I know that legend.” Ysona picked up her needle again continued her work as she spoke. “The winter was so cold that his mother would not leave the forge and he was born while she held on to an anvil.”  
“Durin spent most of his life in the forge before becoming king,” Fili went on. “And as much as he could after. So prince or no prince, a son of Durin learns how to master fire and iron and bend them to their will. It makes us strong, and it makes us remember our roots.”

Ysona smiled without taking her eyes off her work. “You sound as if you have memorized these words.”  
Fili shifted in his seat. “Truth to be told, I must have heard them so many times during my childhood that I could have said them backwards. But I could never deny the truth in them, as I have always loved the forge, the fires, and even the hard work. I always feel at peace with the rhythm of the hammer and the pumping of the bellows in my ears.” He let a smoke ring rise towards the ceiling with a wistful smile.

When he looked at his wife again he found her looking at him with a smile of her own. “Is it that you would rather be a blacksmith than a king?”  
Fili met her eyes. “Sometimes,” he said simply. “And sometimes, I think of the throne that someday will be mine. But at least I can rest assured that as my time allows I will always be able to take solace in the forges.”

Ysona lowered her eyes and picked up the needle again. At her feet stood a basket with several spools of thread, and she picked on, unrolled a length and cut it off with a small, golden pair of shears. Then she deftly threaded the needle before looking at Fili again. 

“Will you?”  
“Thorin learned the craft from his father and grandfather. He told me how he used to stand beside Thror watching him wield a hammer he could hardly lift himself. It’s more than a family tradition. It’s in our blood.”

Ysona concentrated on folding the hem as she came to a corner. “I have not seen the forges of Erebor yet.”  
Fili leaned forward. “You haven’t?”  
She shook her head and turned the fabric around, then held it up to inspect her work.   
“Do you want to?”  
Ysona looked past the rectangular cloth and smiled. “I’d love to, my prince. Especially since you seem so fond of the place.”

Fili smiled and leaned back, watching Ysona handle her needle and thread. 

“And what is it you are working on? I thought the needlework is done in the women’s halls because of the better lighting?”  
Ysona ran the needle loosely into the fabric and looked up. “All the clothing and other sewing is done there, yes. But this is my private task.” She held up the piece again and smiled softly. “It is a blanket.”  
Fili frowned. “A very small blanket.”  
Still smiling, Ysona rolled her eyes. “Yes, of course. For a very small person.”

Fili’s hand holding his pipe froze halfway to his mouth. Then he laughed. “Forgive me for being as thick as a short plank sometimes.”  
Ysona joined him and her eyes sparkled. “Forgiven. So this blanket I am making? It is the one he shall be wrapped in once he is born. The cloth if a very fine wool, it was part of my dowry, and meant for making baby clothing. And even if I receive a lot of gifts for him, his very first blanket is to be made by the mother’s hand alone.”

“I didn’t know that,” Fili said in a low voice.  
“These are women’s matters.” Ysona shrugged. “What concern of yours would his blanket be?”   
“His?” He cocked his head with a smile.  
Ysona blushed. “I would very much like to give you a son, my prince.”  
Fili felt his smile widen. “Please do not be disappointed if it should be a girl. I will be just as happy having a beautiful little princess. And if so, we will just have to try again.”

Ysona’s blush deepened, but she was still smiling.

“So,” Fili said after a moment, the smile still in place. “Should I take you to the forges tomorrow?”  
“I would love to, my prince.”  
“Then that is settled. Tomorrow, I will show you the forges of Erebor, the birthplace of Durin himself.”

* * *

To Ysona’s and Dís’ surprise – she had told the Emerald Princess of Fili’s intention of showing her the forges – it was not Fili but his brother who came to fetch her from the Queen’s halls the next afternoon. He offered Ysona his arm and they made their way through the halls and galleries of Erebor, heading ever downward and deeper into the mountain for the forges.

“Kili,” Ysona said after a while. “I had no chance yet to give you my thanks.”  
Kili looked at her and tilted his head. “Don’t speak of it. Just as my brother, I did what had to be done.”  
“You still risked a lot.”  
“I would have risked a lot more, and Fili too, had we been forced to come up with our own plan. The ambush by orcs was the best that could have happened.”Kili reached over with his free hand to par hers. “Stop worrying and try to put it behind you.”  
“I will try,” Ysona gave back. 

They heard the forges long before they reached them: the thundering of the bellows, the hissing of steam and the song of hammers ringing on metal. Then they began to feel the heat, and it became more and more oppressive as the sound became louder and all-pervading. 

There were dozens of workers in the forges, standing at anvils, shovelling coal, loading wheelbarrows with dross and carrying water. 

Looking at the giant furnaces, Ysona froze for a moment. She had known the forges of the Iron Hills, but these majestic contraptions surmounted everything she could have imagined. The noise and the heat forgotten, she looked around, wide-eyed and fascinated.   
Kili enjoyed the look on her face and the tingle of pride he felt every time he accompanied someone to the forges who had not seen them before. 

Then he took her arm again and tugged. “This way, princess.”

They walked past a group of workers clearing a furnace of slag and ash and Kili extended a hand. “Over there.”

At first, due to the dim light, Ysona only saw another blacksmith standing at the anvil and wielding a large hammer while holding the glowing piece of iron with tongs. He was bare-chested under the heavy leather apron and she could see strong muscles flexing as he brought the hammer down. His hair was tied back into a ponytail.

It was first when he looked up at her and Kili and she saw the beads in his braided moustache that she recognised him. She stared, and Kili had to suppress a chuckle.

When Fili finally noticed them standing there, he lowered the hammer and looked up, to find his brother and his wife watching him work, the latter staring at him with wide eyes and half-parted lips. He smiled, and his smile widened into a small, slightly playful grin when he noticed Ysona’s facial expression. 

Ysona noticed that smile and realised what she was doing. The blush was so bright that it was visible even in the dim, red light of the forges. Fili plunged the iron in the bucket of water beside him and when the steam had settled, he set the hammer down and sauntered over. 

“Welcome to the forges of Erebor, my princess.”  
Ysona swallowed and managed a feeble smile. “This is even more impressive than I could ever have imagined.”  
Fili gave her a smile full of pride. “They are magnificent. Now why don’t I show you around?” 

“I’ll leave you to it, brother.” Kili lifted his hand. “Dwalin wanted me in the training court later and I don’t want him upset before we even started.”  
“Then you’d better get going,” Fili said and nodded. “Thank you.”

Kili turned around and left them, and once he was out of sight, Fili turned to his wife. “My princess?”  
Ysona laid a hand on his bare, sweaty arm, and the two exchanged a small smile.

* * *

Fili was approached by his brother at the morning meal a few days later. 

“Fili!”  
“Good morning, brother.”  
Kili sat down beside him. “I just wanted to ask about Ysona. She hasn’t been to breakfast ever since we came back from the Iron Hills.”  
Fili could do nothing to stop the smile that spread on his face. “The poor dear doesn’t feel too good in the morning these days.”  
“And why would her being ill be a reason for you to grin like a half-wit?”  
“Because she is not ill,” Fili said after a chuckle. “She is with child.”

Kili’s eyes widened, and with a huge grin spreading on his face, he pulled his brother up and into an embrace. They shared a hearty laugh, and Kili slapped his brother’s back.

“As much as I enjoy seeing you in a good mood I would ask you to refrain from creating such a ruckus during breakfast!” Thorin called out at them.   
“Uncle!” Kili grinned with flashing teeth.   
“What is it?” Thorin began to frown.  
“No!” Kili exchanged a look with his brother and both of them grinned again. “Not you, me! I’m going to be uncle! Uncle Kili!”

For a second, the hall was silent, then Dís squealed like a girl and jumped up from her chair to hurry to her son and embrace him. Moments later, Fili was completely overwhelmed with a flood of blessings and congratulations.


	26. Chapter 26

Two weeks went by where Fili pampered Ysona through her morning sickness and undressed her each night in wonder to note the changes of her body, watching as her breasts changed shape and grew and her nipples changed colour from pink to purple. 

Ysona glowed with happiness, despite her morning sickness, and Fili’s lightened mood had a soothing effect on his strained relationship with Thorin. Some of the easiness returned to their conversations that were no longer only stiff and formal. 

Shortly after midwinter carpenters came to make furniture for the nursery.   
Later that day Fili and Ysona appraised the progress, but as they left the room, Fili noticed Ysona press a hand on her belly with a frown.

“Ysona? Are you unwell? Are you sick?”  
She shook her head. “No, I just feel a little sore. I think I should just go to bed and rest.”

Fili tried not to act like a worried mother hen, but he had to admit that he felt helpless and did not like it. This was Ysona’s burden, and whatever happened, he could not help her. 

Ysona slept restless that night and had still minor pains in her abdomen the next morning, but a midwife in the Halls of Healing assured them that things like these were quite common in early pregnancy and nothing to worry about, and neither should she be worried about light bleeding. 

But as the days passed, a shadow closed in on Ysona, as she became more and more tired and of course, more worried. Her pains persisted, sometime only a mild stitching, but sometimes so intense that she doubled over from it. 

Dís had by now realised that something was not quite right, but she and Fili guessed it probably had to do with her being kept so weak for so long. They made her lay in bed and brought her food, but the pain did not go away.

Summoned by Dís, the midwife had another look at Ysona, and this time, she examined Ysona with a frown. 

“Are you bleeding?”  
“Yes, every now and then, but not a lot.”  
“What colour?” The midwife asked. “Dark, brown, or red?”  
“More red.”  
“Bright red?”  
Ysona nodded, and the midwife exchanged a worried look with Dís. 

“What is it?” Dís asked after she and the midwife had left the bedroom.   
“I don’t know, my lady.” The midwife sighed. “But I fear the worst. Keep her in bed, let her rest, but if the pains persist, I am afraid there is no help but to end it. We have to give her an abortive potion.”  
Dís closed her eyes for a second. “Is it that bad?”  
“Not yet. But if it doesn’t get better, then we can only save her so she may have another child.”  
“I understand.”

The midwife left, and crossing her arms, Dís stared into the hearth. What the midwife had just told her was the worst possible news, and she had no idea how she could break it to her son. She tried to give herself hope that both of them were still young, healthy and had many years ahead of them to have children. 

And maybe everything would turn out fine after all, but the face of the midwife as she had palpated Ysona’s abdomen gave Dís little hope. Yet she finally decided against telling Fili about the possible need for abortive measures, not before it became a reality, but she knew how much he worried about his wife. 

Dís sat down in one of the armchairs at the hearth with a heavy sigh, and wondered what Mahal’s reasons were to torment the young pair like this. She came to a conclusion that was as unpleasant as it was making her feel helpless, so she tried not to think about it.

* * *

The days passed, and Ysona grew weak and pale. The pains did not go away, but the first time Dís gently and cautiously mentioned an abortion, Ysona broke down crying, keening and begging her not to kill her baby. Dís and her son exchanged a look of utter desolation, and Fili sat down beside her on the bed, taking one of Ysona’s pale and shaking hands in his.

“Ysona, dear. This is hard for all of us, but you can’t deny that something is wrong. Very wrong. Please, do no harm to your body that cannot be undone. And Mahal willing...” He kissed her fingers and sought her eyes. “Mahal willing, I can give you another one.”  
Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she mutely shook her head. “Please, please no.”

Fili sighed and pressed his lips together. “ _Amad_ , what can we do?”  
“I don’t know.” Dís smoothed a few moist hairs from Ysona’s forehead. “I simply don’t know.”

That night, Ysona awoke with a jolt of pain that made her whimper and double over. The bed sheet under her was stained with blood, and Fili jumped out of the bed and ran to fetch his mother.  
Dís hastily threw on a gown, and when they returned to their bedroom, Ysona had thrown up and suffered from a bout of diarrhoea. She cried, both from shame and from pain, and after Dís had helped to clean her up, Fili wrapped her into a clean blanket. After hastily putting on a shirt and trousers, he picked Ysona up and carried her to the Halls of Healing. 

Once there, Fili and Dís settled the almost unconscious Ysona onto a bed in the room they had been assigned. The healer was an elderly woman with an aura of calm knowledge, but after taking one look at Ysona she instantly had the midwife summoned as well. 

Now Dís and Fili stood outside her room while Ysona was being examined, looking at each other worriedly and too afraid to voice their thoughts.

Finally, Dís laid a hand on Fili’s arm. “Don’t you think we should try and get some rest? We will be summoned the very moment something-”  
“I shall not leave her,” Fili interrupted her, his voice tired and low. “You go and sleep, _Amad_ , I stay.”  
Dís shook her head with a sad smile. “You think I will leave you alone here, _dashatê_?” There was a bench at the other side of the hallway, and she took Fili’s arm and led him there.   
“Thank you,” Fili muttered. 

Time passed. Midnight had come and gone when the door to Ysona’s room opened and the healer emerged, but she just gave Dís and Fili a nod before vanishing down the hallway. Fili felt a feeling of anger and frustration well up in him, but the rational part of him knew that he would only be in the way in there and that he could do nothing to help. She would have told them if there was any change to Ysona’s state, and trying to remain calm, he rested his head against the wall.

Erebor was still so sparsely populated that it was eerily silent at night. No footfalls, no voices echoed through the halls, and the only sound was the faint, distant gushing of the pumps driven by the heat of the ever-burning forges.

In an attempt to distract his thoughts he imagined those old, gigantic pumps, driven by steam, the water heated by the forges, pumping the water out of mineshafts and the lower tunnels through the mountain like a heart pumped blood through a body.   
It washed all the sewage from all over the mountain down towards the underground river to be carried away into the lake. From a good bit upriver, these same pumps also fetched fresh drinking water from that river, supplying all the wells and fountains throughout Erebor, a masterpiece of engineering.

During daytime, the faint noise of the pumps was drowned out by the sounds of life in the mountain, but in the stillness of the night, it was audible, if faintly so. A faint, background thrum that kept the mountain and its people alive and healthy.

Fili stared at the door, his worry growing with every passing minute. He couldn’t even say how much time had passed when finally, the healer came back, accompanied by Oin, the apothecary. 

He looked at Fili and Dís on the bench and nodded. “There’s no reason to give up hope yet.”

Fili gritted his teeth while Dís managed to give Oin a thankful nod. Then he and the healer vanished into the room, and the waiting continued. 

“I know you do not want to leave,” Dís said after a while. “Would you like me to bring you something?”  
“Don’t trouble yourself, _Amad._ ”  
Dís sighed and took one of Fili’s hands. “I cannot help her, let me at least help you.”  
Fili looked up into the worried eyes of his mother. He squeezed her hand and the ghost of a smile showed on his face. “If you could find my pipe, I’d be grateful.”  
Dís got up and ran her fingers through his hair. “I’ll be right back.”

Fili continued to stare at the door, his worries giving way to desolation. That Oin was here would likely mean they would make Ysona drink the abortive potion his mother had spoken about the other day, and he couldn’t, and didn’t want to imagine what Ysona would go through after that.

He knew, if only from hearsay, that pregnancy could go wrong, that a lot of women lost children and yet had several healthy ones despite it. But thinking of his delicate, vulnerable young wife being forced to part from the child she had been so happy about made Fili shudder. She would be devastated. 

But then he remembered the blood on the sheets as Ysona had woken him up earlier, and the dim fear grew into certitude. The child was almost certainly dead already. With all the blood she had already lost previous to that, and all the pain she had suffered, even Fili, who knew next to nothing about these matters, could not imagine the child could survive. This was no longer about the pregnancy, it was about the life of Ysona herself. 

Coldness crept up his spine and settled as a hard knot between his shoulder blades, and even the pipe weed his mother brought him a little later could do little to calm him.   
As he smoked with trembling fingers, he lowered the pipe and looked at her. 

“The child is dead, isn’t it?”  
A heavy sigh heaved from his mother’s chest. “I don’t have any hopes. I’m sorry.”  
“Can they save her?”  
“I don’t know.” Dís closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again they were misted with tears. “I don’t know, Fili. It looks bad. Very bad, but then, I am neither healer nor midwife. They know a lot more than I do.”

Fili nodded, and tried to share his mother’s feeble hopes. They continued their silent vigil until at one point, the door opened and the midwife stepped into the door.

“My prince, we need your aid.”  
Fili handed the pipe to his mother and got up. “What is it?”  
The midwife sighed. “She refuses to take the draught that can save her. Maybe you could talk her into it? I would hate to do it by force.”

Feeling a cold, hollow spot settle in his stomach, Fili nodded and followed the midwife into the room. A pungent smell of herbs hung in the air and mingled with sweat and a faint tang of blood. His heart sank when he saw Ysona.

She was even paler than when he had brought her here, moisture made her hair cling to her temples and forehead. She seemed short of breath, too, but the worst about her was the hopeless, terrified look in her eyes.   
Fili sat down on a small footstool beside the bed and took one of her hands in his. It was cold and limp.

“Ysona, dear,” he said gently.  
“My prince...” Her voice was hoarse and shaky. “Please do not let them kill my baby.”

Fili sighed and closed his eyes for a second before meeting her eyes again. He spoke softly, and gently but firmly squeezed her hand. 

“Ysona. I know your pain, I feel it too. It was my child as well, but there is no hope left. Please, do as they ask you to and let them save your life. We will have more children, but this time, it wasn’t meant to be.”  
A soft sob escaped her and she closed her eyes. “Fili...” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I’m so sorry...”  
“And I’m sorry too, _uzbadnâthaê_.” He was hard pressed to keep his voice calm and had to summon all his strength to do so. “But this is no longer about the child. It is about your life, Ysona.”

He looked up as the midwife slowly stepped up to him, extending a cup. Her eyes were full of sorrow and compassion, and with a heavy heart, Fili took the cup and gently lifted Ysona’s head with his other hand. 

“Drink, _uzbadnâthaê_. I’m sorry it came to this, but please, don’t make me lose you as well.”

The tears were flowing freely now as Fili brought the cup to her lips, and she sobbed one last time before she opened them and let him help her drink it.   
When that was done she let her head fall back into the pillow and cried. Fili took her hand again and brushed her hair out of her face. He kissed her fingers and held on to her hand until the midwife gently asked him to leave again as the draught would soon start to do its work. 

Fili nodded, pressed a kiss onto Ysona’s cold and clammy temple and left again.

When he sat down beside his mother, he could see she had been crying too.

“There is no hope, then?”  
Fili shook his head. “Not for the child, no.”  
Dís embraced him then, and he let his head drop onto her shoulder. 

Down in the hall, Erebor slowly began to awaken. The first craftsmen and traders made their way to their workshops, and the kitchen staff started their day to prepare breakfast for the royal household. Fili heard two women laugh, heard a few men shouting a greeting at each other, and heard as someone dropped something heavy and cursed. 

When the first moan of pain filtered through the noise and the closed door Fili was on his feet in an instant, and Dís hastily got up and took hold of his arm.   
He swallowed hard and leaned against his mother. Dís put an arm around him, and they remained like this, trying to block out the noises from behind the locked door in front of them. 

Someone came up the stairs with heavy steps. 

“Sister?”

Fili opened his eyes. Thorin, wearing none of his royal garments apart from the crown, looked worriedly back and forth between Dís and her son. 

“A servant told me Fili had brought Ysona to the Halls of Healing last night. How bad is it?”  
Fili closed his eyes with a shake of his head.  
“Very bad,” Dís said softly. “The child is dead, and now they are trying to abort it to save Ysona.”

Thorin stepped beside his nephew and put a hand on his arm, genuine concern and sorrow in his eyes. “I am sorry, Fili. I truly am. Tell me if there is anything I can do.”  
Fili gave him a desolate stare and shook his head.

Just at that moment, someone else came running up the stairs with long, bouncing steps. Kili almost lost his balance as he rounded the corner and stared wide-eyed into the corridor.

“Fili!” He hurried towards his brother and embraced him. “Why for Mahal’s sake do I have to hear from a servant that...” He leaned back and looked at his brother, his voice instantly toning down. “Fili. Brother, why didn’t you call me?”  
“Why wake you up and worry you?” Fili shook his head. “What could you have done?”  
“Be here?” Kili looked hurt. “With you? I’m your brother, Fee. I know we’ve been not as close these last few months as we used to, but did you really think you’d have to go alone through this? I know I cannot actually do anything, but I can be here for you.”

Fili met his eyes, and saw only genuine concern and worry as well. He sighed and embraced his brother, leaning his head onto Kili’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, little brother.”  
Kili firmly closed his arms around him. “No, don’t be sorry. You’ve enough on your mind as it is.”

The brothers remained like this until the door to Ysona’s room opened again. This time, the midwife’s face was drawn tight with worry. She didn’t even acknowledge the king’s presence but looked at Fili. 

“You had better come in,” she said. 

She did not need to say more. Kili immediately released him and with heavy steps, Fili entered the room again, with a cold feeling of dread growing inside him. 

Ysona wasn’t screaming anymore, she wasn’t even moaning. She lay still and was even paler yet, a sight that gave Fili’s heart a jolt. The footstool had been replaced by a chair and he sank heavily into it before taking Ysona’s hand. He leaned over her and brushed a finger across her cheeks.

“Ysona?”  
Her eyelids fluttered, and her lips parted. He more read his name on her lips than he could hear it.  
“I’m here with you. Don’t leave me, please.”  
He felt a hardly perceptible pressure around his fingers holding her hand. 

Words failed him. Her forehead furrowed and a tiny whimper of pain escaped her, making him shudder. The midwife and the healer stood with Oin at the other side of the room, but no one spoke. The bitter smell of herbs and the metallic scent of blood hung in the silent room. 

Ysona’s breathing was shallow and fast. Another whimper forced itself past her lips, and she finally opened her eyes, searching and finding Fili’s face. Fili tried to smile, but wasn’t even sure if she could see that clearly. Her eyes were glassy and full of tears.

“My princess,” he whispered, leaning close. Even with his ear almost at her mouth, he could hardly hear her breathe. “Stay strong. Stay with me.”

Ysone closed her eyes with another high-pitched whimper of pain. Her head tossed to and fro, and when she relaxed again, her breathing was even shallower than before. Fili closed his eyes and touched her temple with his forehead. He held on to her hand, increasing the pressure, and listened to her weak, shaky breathing, expecting every one he could hear to be her last. He remained with her, oblivious to anything else. Her life seemed nothing more than the flickering light of a dying candle flame.

Out in the hallway, Dís was leaning against her brother, trying to remain strong and calm, but helpless against the silent tears. Others had obviously heard the bad news as well, because somewhat later, Balin found them there, too, offering silent support as he stood beside them. 

When finally, the door opened again, everyone looked up to see Fili leave the room. He softly closed the door behind him, his face pale, his eyes empty, hollow pools of pain. 

He looked at his mother, his uncle, his brother and at last, at Balin. 

“Ring Durin’s Bell.” Fili’s voice was a hoarse, toneless whisper. “The Sapphire Princess is dead.”


	27. Chapter 27

Holding on to the railing Fili stared down into the halls of Erebor where life went on, people going about their life unaware of the tragedy that had happened in their midst. 

He felt cold. Coldness deep inside, that no amount of fur or fire could ever banish. He wished he could cry, for her sake at least, but there was only the hollow emptiness he had hoped to have overcome. Now it was back, even colder and darker than before. 

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, so familiar in feeling and gesture that Fili did not have to lift his head to know it was his brother. The hand vanished and Kili silently stood beside him so their shoulders touched, and neither said nor did anything else, offering silent companionship. Behind him, Fili heard the voices of Thorin and Balin, talking so low he could not understand their words. 

His mother had gone into the room to help washing the body and make her ready for the wake. She would not be buried the next day, as was customary; they would have to wait for her parents to arrive.   
In her worry, Dís had sent a speeded courier out the moment the first signs of trouble had appeared, but it would still be some days before they could arrive, even if they made all haste.

And no matter what, they would come too late. They would not see their child again, only a cold, empty shell that she had left behind on her last journey.

Steps sounded behind him, and he felt a hand pat his shoulder. Then Balin slowly headed down the stairs, his head bent in sorrow. Fili followed him with his eyes as until he rounded a corner and disappeared.  
Another set of footfalls came closer, steps that Fili knew belonged to Thorin. His uncle stood at his other side, and he did not say anything either. 

Time passed that Fili was unable and unwilling to measure while below, life went on. 

When he saw Balin again he could see the old dwarf had been shedding tears, the moisture still glinting in his beard. He was followed by all the other dwarrow of the Company, their empty faces and mournful eyes telling him Balin had given them the bad and sorrowful news about the death of the Sapphire Princess’. 

One by one they came up the stairs, and each of them offered no more than a gentle touch on his arm or shoulder for comfort. Fili did not look up, even if he didn’t know why he could meet no one’s eyes.

He could hear the door open again, and after a moment, he felt his mother’s gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Fili, my love,” she whispered.

Finally, Fili tore his eyes away from the life below and turned around. His mother’s face was pale and drawn, her eyes red and swollen. 

“We are ready to bring her to the Chamber of Resting. Is there anything you wish to say or do before we go?”  
Fili mutely shook his head.  
“Then you have to make yourself ready.” Her voice broke, and more tears ran down her cheeks. “Balin brought some white silk.”

This time he nodded, and began to remove the beads out of his hair and moustache. He unravelled all of his braids, then turned around to have his mother tie his hair together at the back of his neck with a length of white silk. 

It was then that he noticed the white sashes that Balin had obviously handed out already. Kili was just tying his together at his hip.  
Every one of the dwarrow that were here with him wore now a sash across the chest in the white of mourning, to show their support and share his sorrow. Four of them, Bofur, Dwalin, Nori and Gloín, now entered the room and emerged again, bearing the stretcher with Ysona’s body. It was covered in white linen, but the outline could not hide the fact that it covered a woman. 

Once everyone had left the halls of healing they made their way to the main stars down to the descent into the deepest and coldest part of the mountain where the Chambers of Resting were.

The stretcher came first, followed by Fili flanked by his mother and brother. After them walked Thorin and behind him, the rest of the Company.

As the funeral cortege made its way through the halls and galleries, life stood still wherever they came. The dwarrow stopped whatever they had been doing and bowed their heads, mumbling words of blessing and sorrow as the dead princess passed by, and called out ritual blessings to their prince.

The cavern with the Chambers of Resting, the small rooms where bodies awaited their funeral, was deep down in the bedrock, cooled further by the underground river.

The silence was only punctuated by their footfalls and the sounds of the river as they entered one of the chambers where the bearers carefully set the litter down. In the middle of the chamber was a large, rectangular stone block hewn from the bedrock, but when Dwalin and Bofur were about to pick her up, Fili stepped in and shook his head. 

They stepped aside, and Fili knelt down to gather Ysona’s body into his arms. Rigor mortis had already begun to set in and he had a few difficulties picking her up, but then he rose and gently placed her onto the stone block. He then arranged her limbs, straightening her legs and crossing her hands on her chest, before covering her again. 

“She will rest here until her family has come and made their farewells,” Balin said in a low, husky voice, then took a deep breath and spoke in a louder, clearer voice, the voice of the Master of Ceremonies. _“Idrithi amradû khagalalnâs'aban uzbadnâtha!”_

Everyone lowered their heads, and in unison, they muttered their response. _“Ankhâsh.” Sorrow._

Everyone left then but Fili and those closest to him. Thorin closed a hand around his shoulder.

“I’m not coming yet. I want to stay with her for a while.”

Silently Thorin let go of his shoulder and headed for the mouth of the chamber. Dís looked at Fili, then at Kili and opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it. There was no need in asking Kili so stay with his brother.

Dís turned around one more time after leaving the chamber to see Fili slowly sink to the ground with his back against the stone block. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes and holding on to her brother’s arm, she left her son to his silent grief.

Kili leaned against the wall of the chamber directly beside the entrance and waited, listening to the sound of the underground river and the faint rhythm of the pumps. He began to freeze, he began to feel hungry, as well, but a single glance at his brother had him forget his discomforts. 

When Fili finally lifted his head, after an amount of time had passed Kili could not measure, his eyes fell onto his brother.

“What are you still doing here?” His voice was hoarse.  
“Being here.” Kili had his arms crossed and one foot resting against the wall. “What else?”

Fili lowered his head again, and after a moment, laboured onto his feet. He cast a long look at the still, pale form under the linen shroud and a heavy sigh heaved his shoulders. Then he headed for the mouth of the cave.  
Kili left his vigil and took his place at his brother’s side, and in silence they made their way upwards into the light and warmth of the living again. 

Feeling so cold and empty inside, Fili wondered, as he blinked into the light, if this was how a ghost felt when he wandered restlessly among the world of the living. Seeing the life and happiness and the warmth and the light, but unable to feel it.

It was when they had finally reached the royal quarters that Fili spoke again as he stared towards the door of his halls.

“Can I stay with you?”  
Kili draped an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “As long as you like.”

* * *

Due to her vision blurring with tears Dís let her sewing sink into her lap and swallowed a sob. She kept staring at the white cloth in her hands that she was turning into a shirt. She had done this so many times before, she had helped a good many women, neighbours or friends, sew clothes of mourning, she had even, with the help of her friends and neighbours, sewn her own after Felin’s death.  
But to do so for her own son broke her heart with every stitch she put into it. 

Míl and Elira, the wives of Oín and Gloín, her oldest friends and now ladies of her court, sat with her and did their share of the sewing so they would have finished one set for the funeral. They, too, were silent as they worked. There was no singing or chatting in the halls of the queen. Dís kept staring at the cloth as her thoughts tumbled in her head. 

Her son, his heart broken two times already in his young life. His young wife, having died a painful, terrible death. A child that had never known what life means.

Fili as he had parted from his One. 

A small spot of moisture appeared on the white cloth. 

He should have fought for his love, but had instead let his sense of duty override all feelings. And ever since, Dís knew, he had not been the same. He had lost something of himself, and against her better judgement, Dís had kept her silence. 

Regret washed over her, bitter regret for not having backed up her son properly. She should have told him to fight for his love, to defy Thorin, but she knew that Fili would never defy his King and uncle.   
Another regret. She should never have allowed for Thorin to have such an influence over her son. 

And now it was too late. Ysona was dead, and Katla had vanished. Dís kept praying to Mahal everyday that she had not tried to reach Erebor on her own; she had even secretly send Dwalin and Bofur out to search for her, but they had found no signs. If that was good or bad, she couldn’t say. 

Another circle of wetness appeared next to the first one. 

When had her son forgotten that there was more to life than duty? And when had she herself become so immersed in old traditions that she had not thought of fighting back?

Dís blinked and took a deep, shaky breath. She thought of Thorin, her beloved brother, and what had become of him, and she thought back to these many instances where she had had the feeling she no longer knew him. No, she was ashamed, and full of regret, but it would end. 

Now was not the time, now was a time grief, and for the next three years, while Fili would be in mourning, there was little she could do. But she would no longer tolerate her brother’s notions destroying her son. Not more than he already had. 

Her needle resumed its swift movements up and down through the cloth while the two small circles of moisture dried and vanished.

* * *

In his role as apothecary Oín had taken up the duty of embalming the body to preserve it for the funeral. His wife and two of her maidservants had then washed and prepared her, dressed her in a blue silk gown and combed her hair. Then she lay and waited, pale and beautiful as the full moon in a starless night.

It was more than a week after her death that her parents finally arrived from the Iron Hills despite the fact that their ponies foundered and could hardly walk anymore.  
The lookout had seen them and announced their arrival, so Thorin and Dís, both with a white sash across their chests, stood flanking Fili, who was dressed completely in white now, his unbraided hair bound back with a white ribbon, and the three of them faced the entrance.

Bradda came hurrying down the stairs followed by her husband, but when she saw the three waiting for her, she almost collapsed. She stumbled down the last steps, and with tears already running down her cheeks she stared forlornly at Fili who just lowered his eyes. 

“Please... where is my baby?” Bradda was hardly recognisable; no trace remained of the morose, touchy woman they had known. “Where is my little girl?”

Fili looked up, and found he could not meet her eyes. 

To protect his wife, her son had had to die. Now that his wife was dead, and within one single winter, Bradda and Glerin had lost both of their children. He remembered how Ysona had wept and said she was cursed, but she had never been the cursed one. The cursed one was him.   
He had brought unspeakable suffering over two parents and had ended the bloodline of a family, and all in the good intention of doing the right thing, of protecting what was his. 

“Fili...” Bradda sobbed and held out her hands. “Tell me it isn’t true.”  
Fili took her hands and shook his head. His voice refused to carry when he answered. “I’m sorry, mother Bradda.”

Glerin was at her side at that moment and just about had the presence to catch her as she collapsed, and she fell against his chest with loud, high-pitched keens that echoed in the silent hall around them. 

Fili accompanied them down to the Chamber of Resting, but stayed outside to let her parents have one last moment with their daughter before she would become one with the mountain after the funeral the next morning.

* * *

The voice of Durin’s Bell, now finally in place again after her long slumber in Smaug’s hoard, was only heard singing to the mountain when a member of the royal family had died and was going back into the mountain.

She had sung to announce Ysona’s death, and now she sung again to announce that the Sapphire Princess was going back into the mountain, the deep, mournful rumble of the golden bell vibrating through the mountain and bringing the life in Erebor to a halt for the duration of her song of death and grief.

Ysona’s parents stood on one side and Fili and his family, his mother, brother and uncle, at the other side of the large stone coffin in which Ysona now rested, her hair spread out on the pillow, the sapphire diadem resting on her brow and her hands folded on her chest. Almost all of Erebor was here now, passing the coffin by to give a last farewell to their princess, and even though most of them had never known her, they mourned the passing of one so young and beautiful.

All too soon, so many of them said. All too soon.

When finally only the two families remained, accompanied by their closes friends and in Bradda’s and Glegnar’s case, Daín Ironfoot, Balin stepped up to stand at the upper end of the coffin. He lifted his arms and spoke the ancient blessings and called them on to make their final farewells.

One by one, they passed her again and placed their final gifts into her coffin; jewels, gold, precious cloths with lace of gold and silver threads. Her parents gave her a necklace of sapphires that matched her diadem and a rose made of wrought silver.

Fili was the last to say farewell to her, and the only thing he had in his hands was a piece of white cloth. And while most of the others had believed it was only the wrapping for his final gift, it turned out this wasn’t the case.

The cloth Fili now approached the coffin with was the blanket Ysona had been sewing and embroidering for the child that had never been born. He folded it and gently placed it into the crook of her arm. Then he placed a kiss onto her forehead and stood back again. He could hear his mother’s gentle sobs behind him, her barriers finally breaking after she had seen her son’s farewell gift. 

Four dwarrow were needed to lift the heavy stone lid onto the coffin, the runes carved into it announcing her name, lineage and date and cause of death. Then followed a prayer to Mahal, asking him that he take her soul home and give her peace. Balin lowered his arms again and spoke one last blessing.

With a desperate wail, Bradda threw herself onto the coffin as if trying to embrace her child one last time, but her husband slung his strong arms around her and pulled her back.

One by one, the dwarrow left the royal crypts until Fili remained alone, the only one at his side his brother who refused to leave without him. 

After another long moment that Fili stared at the coffin he turned around, and with slow and heavy steps, left his wife to the coldness and darkness of the mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Idrithi amradû khagalalnâs'aban uzbadnâtha_ : Mourn the death of the Sapphire Princess


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blackbirds and Thrushes  
> \- is sometimes attributed to Irishman Samuel Lover (1797-1865) because it is included in his novel Rory O'More.

As the days passed by, Fili began to feel more and more like a ghost. 

The cold emptiness inside him made him feel like he did not really belong in his own skin, and everyone he encountered in his aimless wanderings lowered their eyes and looked sorrowfully away. No one spoke to him, and he did not feel any desire to speak to anyone else, either. And even if he did no longer sleep his brother’s halls, and Kili would sometimes accompany him as he roamed without a goal through the galleries and halls of Erebor.

It was on the fifth day after Ysona’s parents had left, having taken all of her daughter’s possessions with them as Fili had no desire to hold on to her dowry, that they passed by the _Burglar and Dragon_. Bofur was just opening, and invited them in for a pint on the house.

Kili looked at his brother who just shrugged, and they went inside.

“There you are.” Bofur placed two expertly drawn pints of ale in front of them and a third one for himself. 

He sat down and looked the two brothers over. Then he silently lifted his tankard and all three knocked them back. 

Kili put his down with a sigh. “Thanks, Bofur.”  
“Don’t mention it.” Bofur smiled friendly and nudged Fili with his elbow. “You know you’re always welcome here if you happen to get cabin fever alone in your halls.”  
Fili looked up, and because smiling was still beyond him, he gave Bofur a friendly nod. “Thank you.” 

His voice was rusty; it was the first time he had spoken since the funeral. He didn’t speak any more as they sat there sharing an ale with Bofur, apart from a word of thanks as they left.

Kili continued to follow his brother as he walked down the hallways, when suddenly, Fili changed directions. “I need some air.”

They headed for the main gate and left the city, then headed up a small path that led up to the western flank of the mountain where the slopes where gentler and greener. Kili realized where they were going; they had found a spot sheltered from the wind by a cluster of rocks and shadowed by an ancient, gnarled birch tree that stood so ducked and hidden that it had somehow escaped the dragon’s desolation. 

The rocks made for good seating, and once they had settled down, Fili took out his pipe. Kili followed due, and for a while, the two brothers sat in silence, staring westward at the slowly sinking sun, and smoked. 

It wasn’t before the sun began touching the horizon that Fili spoke again. 

“What kind of dwarf am I, brother?”  
Kili slowly turned his head to look at his brother, but Fili was still staring into the sunset. “Whatever do you mean?”  
“What kind of dwarf am I? I thought I was... I thought I am a warrior, a dwarf of honour. I thought...”  
“Fili, whatever it is that makes you think you are not is not true.”  
Fili exhaled softly and followed the cloud with his eyes. “Is it not?”   
“What do you mean, brother?” Kili lowered his pipe.

“I mean that...” Fili closed his eyes. “That it’s not even two weeks since I buried my wife. I am in mourning, and I shouldn’t even be thinking this, and even less talk about it. But it’s burning me from the inside, and I have no one else but you to share my shame with.”  
“Stop talking nonsense.” Kili felt a lump in his throat. “There’s no shame here between us, you know that.”

Fili opened his eyes again, but he still didn’t look at his brother. “It is because...” He swallowed, and when he continued, his voice was husky. “It’s because I keep thinking that there was another child now that I will never know.”  
Kili closed his eyes for a moment. “And why is that a shame?” he asked gently.  
His brother hesitated before speaking. “Because there is no chance that I will ever see the one, but...” He broke off and dropped his head.  
“Fili, please... of course you would think about...”

“How can I think these things what with her body hardly cold?!” Fili threw his pipe away. His brother flinched as it hit a rock and shattered in two. “How can I be such a bastard that... I just buried her, for Mahal’s sake! And I have three years of mourning ahead of me, and the only thing I can think of is...”  
“Fili, please!” Kili slid down from his rock and stood behind his brother, placing both his hands on Fili’s shoulders. “Please stop. You can’t honestly blame yourself to try and find comfort after all you’ve been through?”  
“What I’ve been through?” Fili’s voice was hoarse. He got up and turned around to face his brother. “What I have been through? Kili, I caused the death of two people and because of me, the bloodline of a whole family is extinguished! I carry more guilt than I can even fathom myself so don’t talk to me about comfort!”

Kili gritted his teeth as he frantically thought about what to say. He finally took a deep breath and met his brother’s eyes, deep, blue pools of sorrow. 

“Fili. You didn’t kill Ysona. Glegnar died because he had a sick mind and was a danger to your family. That Ysona died is not your fault!”  
“If it wasn’t for me she’d still be alive.”  
“Yes, and living under the same roof as her brother who lusted after her.”

Fili paused and lowered his eyes. “I... I don’t know. But that still doesn’t make it right that I...” He ran both hands down his face and not for the first time, Kili was worried about how haggard his brother looked. “I fought for my family and my wife,” Fili continued in a whisper. “Despite the fact I neither loved nor wanted her. I had a certain fondness, yes, and that I was about to be a father... ag...again, it made me feel happy again. I fought, I did everything in my power to keep them safe, and I failed. Don’t you see?”  
“I’m afraid I don’t.”

Fili shook his head. “I didn’t love her and I did all I could for her. And Katla... Kili, I loved her, I still do, but I just let her go, thinking it was my duty to do so! But she... they were my family, too! I abandoned my woman and my son to Mahal knows what fate because I believed it to be the right thing to do!”  
“Then get her back!” Kili grabbed his brother’s shoulders, looking at him with desperate resolve. “I can see you die every day a little more and I can’t stand it! If you won’t go, then I will!”

“You will do nothing of the sort!” Fili took a step back and shook his brother’s arms off. “There is no need to hurt her again! I remember how calm she was, and how composed... And I’d like to think that she has found a new man, and that her boy grows up having a father who cares for him.”  
“ _Her_ boy?”  
Fili’s voice was toneless and dark. “I abandoned every right I had on him when I abandoned them.”  
“You didn’t...”  
“I did. I let them go. For blood and duty and the throne of Erebor, I let them go.”

Kili swallowed and shook his head. “Brother... Fili please stop torturing yourself like that.”  
“I am not torturing me. I am confronting truths about me that I do not like. I let them go without a fight, and now that I’m alone again, I find myself thinking about them again as if she was something to fall back upon, a cheap fill-in that...  
“Fili stop!” 

Kili closed the gap between them and grabbed his brother’s shoulders again, this time in an iron grip that he could not so easily break. 

“Stop. I know you are better than that. You still love her, and in all that time that has passed, every day of these last three years, I have never been in doubt about it. Did it ever cross your mind that when you decided against love and for duty, that you did not believe it would end like this? That you couldn’t imagine she was your One because you’ve actually known her for barely three weeks? That you believed you would get over her and be able to move on? That was your only mistake, Fili. That you failed to see what she is to you before it was too late.”

Fili’s face was set tight, but his jaw muscles worked. He looked at his brother as if he was desperate to be able to believe him. 

“Brother.” Kili lowered his voice. “If you could just admit that to yourself, you would hurt less.”  
Fili lowered his eyes and shook his head.  
“Come, Fili. Just say it. You did not know what you truly felt until it was too late.”  
“Is is true...” Fili whispered without looking at him. “But that still doesn’t make it right to think of her now.”

“Be that as it may.” Kili squeezed his brother shoulders. “Ancient laws are hard to overcome. But if a person doesn’t love their spouse, why force them to pretend to be mourning her for three years when the pain is gone much sooner? And if they do, no amount of time will ever heal the pain. These three years, I could never understand why. But that’s the way it is, and there’s nothing to be done about it. But don’t try to tell me you haven’t thought about her during the time you were married.”  
“...of course I have...”  
“So why would that be different now?”

Fili finally looked up again. “But what would it change?”  
Kili frowned.  
“What would it change? Even if she was to come back, we could still not be together. The boy would be a bastard without honour and she a shamed woman. I rather have her live in a place where there is at least a chance for her to be happy.”

“I understand,” Kili said after a while. “And I promise that I won’t just barge into her life trying to drag her back.”

Fili nodded and Kili let go of his shoulders. Then Fili turned around to look at the setting sun again. 

“I can’t stop thinking that once these three years are over, I will go through the same again. Thorin will find me a bride, and I shall never have rest until I have produced a significant amount of heirs to Durin’s line.”  
Kili sighed in anger. “I know.”

Fili didn’t answer and just kept staring west. West, where behind the Misty Mountains, the Shire lay in all its green fertility and peaceful goodwill. 

“Let’s get back inside,” Kili said after a moment. “Before the path gets tricky with darkness.”  
Fili nodded and followed his brother down the path and into the city again.

* * *

Ysona’s possessions had been removed and Fili had taken up living in his own halls again, so after bidding his brother a good night, Kili turned on his heel and instead of heading for his own quarters, went to find his mother.

Since it was still early she was still in the Queen’s Halls with her ladies, and she startled and stood up when Kili barged through the door.

“Mother. We need to talk.”  
“Kili, I beg your pardon, what is...”  
“We need to talk,” Kili interrupted her. “Now.”

Dís took a deep breath, but after meeting her son’s eyes, she asked her ladies and servants to leave. Then she bade Kili follow her into the adjacent audience chamber and locked both doors before facing him again.

“What is it?”  
“It’s about Fili, _Amad._ ”  
“I gathered as much.” Dís sighed and shook her head. “What is it?”  
“He is going insane, but I think you have noticed.”

After a long moment of silence, Dís closed her eyes. “Let me guess.” She opened them again and met Kili’s gaze. “He blames himself for Ysona’s death.”  
Kili blinked a few times, then nodded. “And for Glegnar’s. He blames himself for the extinguishing of their family bloodline, and even more he blames himself for thinking of...”  
“Of Katla and the boy,” his mother finished for him. 

“ _Amad._ , what can we do?” Kili asked after a moment. “How can we help him? Should I travel to the Shire and at least find out if she has a new man?”  
Dís pressed her lips together.   
“ _Amad._?”  
“Come with me.”

Worried beyond compare he followed his mother to her private quarters and nervously watched her as she locked the door and went to a large chest that she unlocked with a small key she produced from her bodice. From the chest she then took a basket and waved Kili over.

“Do you remember when Bilbo came, the spring after Fili married?”  
“I do.” Kili looked at the basked with incomprehension. “But what...”  
“He brought me this.” Dís looked at her son, her eyes filling with tears. “It is the basket Katla was found in as a babe. Wrapped in this blanket, the same blanket I remember being her boy was wrapped in. He found it on his doorstep one morning with a note to give it to me.”  
Kili looked back and forth between his mother and the basket. “But what...”

“Kili.” Dís cleared her throat but her voice was still thick with tears she tried to hold back. “Bilbo went to talk to her immediately after he had found it, but her house was empty. Her personal things were gone, the child was gone, and she was gone as well.”  
“But...” Kili’s eyes widened in shock as he realised what that meant. “But then...”  
Dís gently put the basket back into the chest. “She left the Shire, and Bilbo couldn’t find a trace of her. We do not know where she is now.”

“Does... does Fili know?” Kili finally dared to ask.  
“Of course not.” His mother kneaded her fingers. “He would go mad with worry, and I didn’t want to add that weight to all the things he already has to bear. But whatever we can do or try to do, we have to find her first. And I have no idea where to start looking.”

“Amad.” Kili slung his arms around his chest as if to warm himself. “He didn’t know what he truly felt, did he?”  
“No.” Dís shook her head. “And neither did I, or I would have tried harder to talk my brother out of this notion of impurifying Durin’s bloodline. Wasn’t it Mahal’s intention for them to be together? Is it not Mahal who chooses and then brings those together that belong together? And I have ignored all that, against my better judgement, and I have watched my son being put through hell because of it.”  
“Mother...”   
“No, Kili. It is not my fault, but I blame myself for not trying hard enough to avoid all this. I don’t even know if I could have, but I do know that I did not try very hard.”

They shared a long, mute look of despair.

“I don’t know what we can do,” Dís finally whispered. “But I will think of something. In the meantime, stay with him.”  
“I will not let him down,” Kili replied.

They embraced, and after Kili left her, Dís slowly locked the chest again. 

“Mahal forgive me,” she whispered. “Mahal forgive me, and help me put things right again.”

* * *

Spring came, and snowdrops nodded in the cool air that wasn’t really warmed by sunshine yet. The ice on the lake melted away, and the spring floods carried fertile silt onto the plains around the lake yet again. 

Blue tits and finches had returned, and the few trees and shrubs that were growing where once only dragon-burnt desolation had been were full of life as the buds of their flowers sprang open with the lengthening of the days. 

Sparrows had found their way into Dale again, and their twittering and the cooing of doves filled the air together with the chirping of the starlings that came with early summer.

Midsummer came, and the Midsummer Celebration was held again in the King’s Great Hall, the tables bending under food and drink. The hall was filled with song and laughter, but in the midst of all those merry people, Fili sat in his white clothes without braids, jewellery and his smile, and he looked more like a ghost than ever. 

He sat in silence and drank in silence, and the only company he tolerated was that of his brother who had by now mastered the art of being his silent companion. 

Midnight had long passed, and a lot of the guests had already retired or fallen asleep under various tables, and Fili was still drinking. He had slowly and consistently worked his way through pint after pint, and while he was still far from sober, he was still far from being really drunk, either. 

The mood had dampened a little due to the hour, and Bofur finally got onto the table announcing he had a song to sing. That statement was greeted with applause, and the merry dwarf entertained the remaining guests for a while with songs and his whistle before announcing the last song for tonight.   
His voice pitched low, he began to sing.

_  
“As I was a-walking for my recreation,  
A down by the gardens I silently stray'd,  
I heard a fair maid making great lamentation,  
Crying, Jimmy will be slain in the wars I'm afraid._

_The blackbirds and thrushes sang in the green bushes;  
The wood doves and larks seem'd to mourn for the maid;  
And this song that she sang was concerning her lover;  
O Jimmy will be slain in the wars I'm afraid._

_Her cheeks blushed like roses, her arms full of posies,  
She stray'd in the meadows and, weeping, she said:  
My heart it is aching, my poor heart is breaking,  
For Jimmy will be slain in the wars I'm afraid._

_When Jimmy returned with his heart full of burning,  
He found his dear Nancy all dead in her grave  
He cried: I'm forsaken, my poor heart is breaking,  
O would that I never had left this fair maid!”  
_

A few seconds after he had finished the silence lasted, then his audience applauded and praised his voice and his singing.

Apart from Fili. He slowly got up and put his tankard down and a hushed silence fell upon the dwarrow surrounding Bofur as they watched the widowed prince rise, his white clothes setting him apart from the colours of everyone else.

“A lovely song,” Fili said, his voice low and hoarse. “And if you ever sing it in my presence again, I’ll break your neck.”

Open-mouthed, Bofur stared at him and failed to think of a reply, and Fili just turned and left the hall.

Kili got up as well. “Sorry, Bofur, you know he doesn’t really mean it.”  
“I do.”Bofur’s smile had given way to a sorrowful frown. “Considering that... uh... it was a very bad choice of a song.”

Kili just shrugged and hurried off to follow his brother.


	29. Chapter 29

Durin’s Day had passed; Midwinter had arrived and gone again. 

Fili had placed a twig of rosemary onto Ysona’s coffin on the day she had died a year ago.

Durin’s Day had come again but Fili, still dressed in the white of mourning, still without his braids and beads, had made no sign of coming out of the deep, dark gloom that had swallowed his soul. 

He had placed a twig of rosemary onto Ysona’s coffin again. 

Spring had brushed the landscape with green and added sprinkles of colour as flowers blossomed. The heat of the summer rolled by, and Midsummer fires were lit under a honey-coloured moon. The fields turned yellow and the leaves began to turn soon after. The days shortened and the marmots on the mountain slopes ceased their whistling and disappeared to hide from the coming cold.

The year had turned again, and another Durin’s Day had arrived, and while Fili had taken part in the celebration, he had not joined the feast afterwards. 

While everyone else was in the Great Hall at the banquet, he stood outside and looked out over the ramparts into the cool autumn night. Stars shone brightly overhead as the moon was only a small sliver of silver in the sky, and no clouds disturbed the sight into the vast infinity above.

Most of the lights of Dale had gone out by now as the city had gone to sleep. The lake was a distant dark spot, visible only if you knew where to look. Mirkwood was a strip of darkness towards the west.

The coldness began to seep through his cloak; it was made from wool and lined with the fur of a snow fox, but with him standing so still it could not keep him warm any longer. He was just about to turn around and leave when he heard steps coming up the stairs. He halted and took a step back, he did not wish for company and hoped that whoever it was would leave again.

“You’ve been up here for a long time, brother.” Kili’s voice was low.  
“I needed some air.”  
“And some solitude?” Kili smiled and was about to turn around again.  
“Brother. I don’t mind your company.”

Kili looked up and found the ghost of a smile on Fili’s lips. He strode towards the rampart and put his hands onto the rough stone. Fili stepped beside him and crossed his hands at his back. 

“Glad you still enjoy my company,” Kili whispered.  
“You’re the only one who doesn’t keep on telling me to get over it and move on.”  
Kili cast his brother a worried look, but Fili’s face was expressionless as he stared straight ahead. “It’s almost been three years,” he finally said.  
Fili shrugged. “It was an arranged match. No one expected me to grow really fond of her.

With a sigh, Kili leaned onto his arms and let his head drop forward. 

A slight breeze picked up and stirred the fur of Fili’s collar. If not for that, he might have been a statue carved of white marble. Kili watched him from the corner of his eye and lifted his head when Fili closed his eyes with a sigh.

“Do you think she will tell him about me?”  
Kili did not need to ask whom he meant. “I honestly don’t know. But I could imagine she would, telling him his father was a great warrior who fell in battle. If I remember correctly, she mentioned as much.”  
Fili nodded and pressed his lips together. “He won’t be a warrior, will he?”  
“He might be.” Kili tried to sound confident.  
“Growing up among hobbits?” The bitterness in his voice stung by just hearing it.  
There was no comfort Kili could offer; the contrary, he could only make it worse. “Who knows,” he finally said.

Fili sighed, a deep heavy sigh of tired resignation. “If at least he could grow up a dwarf. I said that much to her back when we... when we said farewell. She even said to me she would wish for that, too. And now she is living in the Shire, a peaceful, safe place for sure, but...” He dropped his head.  
“I know.” Kili put an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “I know.”

“I keep thinking of the battle,” Fili said suddenly in a raspy voice. “I keep thinking about the orc you shot, the one that was about to cave in my skull with a mace.”  
Kili shuddered. “Don’t say it, Fee, please don’t...”  
Fili ignored his plea. “I sometimes wish he had succeeded.”  
His throat going dry, Kili’s voice was rough as well when he replied. “And I’d have had to watch you die.”  
“I know.” Fili squared his shoulders. “It is a selfish wish, and futile to boot. As futile as wishing I had stood my ground back then. Sorry.” Then he turned around without looking at his brother. “I bid you a good night, brother. I’m tired.”

Kili let him go and kept staring down, wondering if one day he would come up here to find Fili’s shattered corpse lying down before the gates below. He shook his head like a wet dog to dislodge that image, and with a heavy heart, he headed for his own quarters.

* * *

Early the next morning, too early for most of Erebor’s inhabitants who had gone to bed only two or three hours ago, Fili was already up again and heading purposefully for the private quarters of the king. He entered the antechamber and knocked at the door to Thorin’s private room.

“Who’s there?”  
“It’s Fili, Uncle.”  
“Come in, lad.”

Thorin was already up and dressed as Fili entered, and he indicated towards the door to his private study with a friendly nod. 

“I can see you have something important on your mind if you are up and about this early,” Thorin said as he closed the door behind them.  
“I have.” Fili’s voice was flat and without emotion. “I cannot go on like this any longer, Thorin. I have to see her, I have to...”  
“You have to what?” Thorin interrupted him. “Fili, you are still in mourning, how can you...”  
“I know!” Fili crossed his arms. “I know, all right? But I still...”  
“Stop it right here, lad.” Thorin’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “I can see you are upset, and I know why. I understand, and...

“No!” Fili dropped his arms and curled his fists. “No, you don’t understand! I’m going to pieces and I will not be parted from her any longer! I have...”  
“Fili my lad, we have been over this many times. We need you here, and we need your...”  
“My semen is what you need, don’t you?” Fili snapped, his voice rising and anger glowing in his eyes. “That’s all I am to you! An heir to continue your precious rein! A stud for the royal breeding programme!”  
Now Thorin’s anger awoke, as well. “I will not be spoken to in that way! And you know as well as I do what will happen if the line of Durin...”  
“If I hear the words Line of Durin once more I’m going to...”

“You are going to?” Thorin narrowed his eyes. “Drop it, Fili, I thought we had settled this. Your heirs...”  
“Heirs! There’s nothing in your mind but that! If you are so keen on heirs, where are yours, then?” Ignoring Thorin’s paling face; Fili went on, his voice maturing into an angry shout. “Where are your sons, Thorin Oakenshield? Where is your contribution to Durin’s line? Where?”

“Careful, Fili.” Thorin’s voice was a low growl. “You are about to cross a line.”  
“Durin’s line, I presume.” Fili snarled at him, baring his teeth. “If you weren’t my kin I’d...”  
“You’d what?” Thorin crossed his arms and glared. “Draw on me?” 

His eyes went pointedly to the hilt of Fili’s dagger and one of his hands that had unconsciously reached for it. Fili dropped the hand and heaved a heavy breath.  
They kept staring into each other’s eyes in fury, both refusing to be the first to budge.

“Fili,” Thorin finally said, his voice low and gentle. “Fili, my boy, please, listen to me. I know how you hurt right now, I can see that yon woman was not a mere passing fancy. But you know why it could not be. I am sorry you had to sacrifice so much, but do not let it all have been in vain, the fight for our people. You are stronger than that.”  
“No longer, I’m afraid.” Fili’s voice was a hoarse rasp.  
Thorin shook his head with a sad, gentle smile. “You are. You will not succumb to this. You are of Durin’s blood, and even if we both have been under the spell of Durin’s curse, I know you are strong enough to shed it again.”

Fili frowned at his King and uncle, his anger mingling with confusion. 

“I know, Fili.” Thorin laid a gentle hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “This fierce desire, this deep, dark longing. I had hoped you would be spared by the sickness, but it has gotten hold of you, even if it is not the gold you crave. I know, because I have been there, too. I know that bitterness, that hunger, the emptiness that nothing seems to be able to fill.”

His shoulder’s drooping, Fili gave Thorin a helpless stare. “But Uncle...”

“I’m sorry, Fili.” Thorin embraced him and sighed. “I’m sorry you could not be spared. Don’t get me wrong, Fili, I am sure you love her. But that this desire should take such a hold of your soul... I wish you would not hurt that much. But you are strong. Find that strength in you, and you can overcome it, just like I did.” He touched Fili’s forehead with his. “I believe in you, Fili. And so does your brother and mother, but they don’t understand. They don’t know what you are going through. But I do. And I am here for you, always.”

Fili’s shoulders began to tremble. “I’m sorry, Uncle...”  
“I know you are.” Thorin embraced him again, closing his arms around his nephew. “I know. I do not blame you, and I have already forgiven you. Now you have to forgive yourself and start fighting it. This sickness will not give in without fighting back, but I know you are strong enough. I have no doubt that one day you will rule these halls in a just and fair rein.”

They remained like this for a while until Fili peeled himself away from Thorin. After a last goodbye he left him, using the door that went straight to the main hall, and Thorin sat down at his desk and shook his head as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

Yet behind the other door leading to Thorin’s quarters, someone had become an unwitting eavesdropper. Dís had meant to talk to her brother, seeing if he was already up. When he was not in his chamber she was about to enter his study when she heard the voice of her son accusing Thorin of only wanting him for his semen. Shock froze her, and she witnessed every word after that.

It took her a while to get herself back together after Fili had left, and she knocked softly on the door.

“Sister?”

She entered and saw Thorin smile at her. It was beyond her, though. He noticed her facial expression and furrowed his brow. 

“Dís, what is it?”  
“I... Thorin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when I heard Fili talk about semen I...”  
Thorin’s face went blank. “I’m sorry about it, too, Dís. But he has the strength to overcome it. It will pass.”

Hearing these last words, something inside Dís finally snapped. Despite her brother’s calm attitude, and despite the fact that she knew he only did what he thought was best and only meant well, she felt her fury rising up in her like porridge in a kettle about to boil over.

“No, it will not pass!” She stepped directly in front of her brother and leaned forward. “It did not pass during the first two years before he married, and now he almost has his third year of mourning behind him and no matter who you are going to marry him to after this, it will not change anything! Thorin, you cannot be so blind as to...”  
“I am not blind in the slightest.”

Dís forced her voice to remain calm. “Yes, you are. You are refusing to see that his dark _durthel_ is going to destroy him! He has given up, Thorin! If we don’t get Katla back we will lose him!”  
Thorin finally got up and crossed his arms. “We won’t, Fili is stronger than that.”  
“He has been strong for far too long, can’t you see? But you do, don’t you. You just don’t want to see it. You cannot stand that your heir...” She broke off and ran her hands down her face. 

“My heir?” Thorin dropped his arms and curled his fists. “Yes, please finish. What about him? He is my heir, and I trained him and formed him into...”  
“Into another you! Thorin, Fili may be your heir, but he is my son! I will not stand by any longer while these notions of duty that you ingrained in him destroy his very soul!”  
“And do you expect me to stand by while the two of you disgrace and impurify Durin’s line? That is never going to happen!”Thorin’s voice had risen as well.

“Did it ever cross your mind, brother, that her human blood might be nothing of the sort?” She knew pleading would not help, but she had to say it, at least. “Did it ever cross your mind that Mahal could frown upon him now? He has very clearly given him his One, and he cast her away for notions of duty that you have taught him! What if her blood was not an impurity but an enrichment to the blood of Durin’s Line? Half the mountain is already related to us, after all!”

Thorin’s anger burst free and a vein in his left temple began to throb “Do not speak of Durin’s blood in such a way!”  
“I am of Durin’s blood, too! And I speak about it as I please! You are blind with your pride, Thorin, blind for anything else but the crown on your head!”  
“The crown that I won so your son could wear it someday! Paid for in blood and...”

“A crown that you won for him without ever wasting a second to wonder if he wants it or not!” By now Dís was shouting in anger, and she didn’t care anymore who could hear her. “You took him from me, Thorin, and formed him into another you! You formed him with all the bitterness and hate and fury and desperation in your heart, and now...” 

She took a deep breath and tried reason once more. 

“I am your sister, Thorin. I know about the sacrifices you made. I know, because I was there when you forced yourself away from whom I still believe was your One, and if you didn’t know that as well, then you would not be so furious right now. But I was never sure if that sacrifice was necessary, and now you are repeating the same with your heir. You are turning him into another you in more than one aspect, and you refuse to see it.”

Thorin’s anger had not abated, and it was only fanned when Dís mentioned something she had promised never to speak of again.

“Do you know what you speak of?” He bellowed. “Of how you make a king? What it means to be king? Sacrifices need to be made!”  
“A sacrifice is only one if it is given freely!” Dís was back to shouting too, her anger taking control. “You have never given my son a choice in the matter! You trained him like a dog to heed your will and now it destroys him! You made his sacrifices for him and still do! What right do you have to part him from the One Mahal has sent his way?”  
“Stop that nonsense about his One! The Kingdom is more important than the lovesickness of a young prince! You cannot rule a kingdom with your heart alone!”  
“And you sure cannot rule it without one, either!”

There they stood, brother and sister of the line of Durin, and glared at one another with raised hackles and bared teeth. 

“That you would talk to my son about the dragon sickness,” Dís finally snarled. “It is you who is still in its grip, even though it’s not the gold anymore. Then, you saw only gold, and now, you only see duty, no longer a life worth living.”

She turned around and left him to stare at her back, mindless of the tears that streamed down her face. She entered her chambers, locked the door behind her and unlocked the chest that hid the keepsakes of her grandson. 

Pressing the blanket to her chest she let herself go in a way she hadn’t since she had lost her husband. She wept and wept as she cradled the blanket to her breasts, and when her tears finally had abated, she sat down into a chair at her heart, her fingers smoothing and teasing the old and threadbare cloth as she silently stared into the flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _durthel_ : gloom of all glooms = mourning, desperation


	30. Chapter 30

When Kili realised that his brother wasn’t going to appear in the hall for the morning meal he was worried; when he realised that Thorin was in a very foul mood his worry grew. His appetite quite vanished, he left his seat and the hall and went to find his brother.

Fili was in his chambers, sitting at the hearth and staring into the cold ash. The room was chilly.

“Brother?”

Fili didn’t reply.

“Fili?” Kili walked over to the hearth and sat down in the second chair. “What is it? Did you and Thorin have an argument?”

Fili finally lifted his head to look at his brother. Kili was aghast, he could see he had been crying, and he was pale as a corpse.

“Brother?” His voice hardly carried. “What is the matter?”  
“I just wanted her back,” Fili whispered, with his eyes narrowing and staring at nothing. “I just wanted her back, but I... I never realised it was...”  
“Fee...” Kili leaned forward and took one of Fili’s hands in his own. It was limp and cold.   
“I just didn’t see it,” Fili went on. “I really didn’t.”  
“What didn’t you see?”

Fili met his brother’s eyes. “How possessed I am, Kili. Don’t you see? That fierce desire, that single-minded craving... I didn’t see it, I didn’t want to see, but Thorin is right.”  
“About what?” Kili had the feeling he wouldn’t like the answer, and he was proven more than right.  
“It’s the dragon sickness.” Fili leaned forward, pleading for understanding with his eyes. “It consumes me, and I can’t get rid of it. I don’t know how. How...”

Kili closed his eyes, and for the first time in his life, he felt fury rise up in him like a gust of hot lava, directed at the dwarf who had raised him, the dwarf who had been the only father he had ever known. He could barely conceal it.

“Thorin has told you your love for Katla is a dragon sickness? And you believed him?”  
Fili drew his eyebrows together. “How could I not? It’s all there... the fierce...”  
“You mentioned that,” Kili interrupted him angrily. “But that’s not what dragon sickness is about. If you so had her back, would you go on craving to have her back?”

Fili blinked a few times, and his frown turned into an expression of puzzlement. 

“No,” Kili went on. “Because once you had her, you’d be happy again. The dragon sickness isn’t about satisfaction. It’s about wanting more and more, it’s about greed, Fili, a bad and evil greed. That’s not what love is, Fili.”  
His brother took a deep, shaky breath. “But isn’t this...”  
“No.” Kili squeezed his hand. “No, brother it’s not. You love a woman, how can that be bad? The dragon sickness is about loving gold too fiercely to feel anything else. You have seen Thorin, Fili. Are you really so like him, filled with rage and hate?”

Fili was silent for a long time, his eyes closed and his lips pressed together. When he finally opened his eyes again they were burning in an unhealthy light, like those of a man dying of a fever. He wordlessly got up, and in three long strides he was at the door and through it in one motion. He slammed the door shut behind him so violently that the lock couldn’t hold it and it slowly swung open again.

Kili flinched as the door slammed, but hastily got up to follow his brother, but as he reached the door, he decided against it. Instead, he headed for his mother’s chambers.

He knocked, and after his mother bade him enter, he softly closed the door behind him and leaned against it with closed eyes. With a sigh, he pushed himself away again and looked around. Dís was sitting at the hearth with the old blanket in her hands. 

“ _Amad?_ ”  
“What is it, my love?”  
“Did... did Thorin and Fili have an argument?”

His mother looked up, and Kili could see she had been crying. “An argument... well, it certainly started like one.” She rose from the chair and met Kili’s eyes. “Why?”  
“Because Fili told me... he told me that Thorin had said...” He rubbed the back of his neck.   
“That Fili suffers from dragon sickness,” Dís finished for him.   
“So you know.” Kili felt his shoulders droop. “But...”

“I have no idea where it came from... well, I do, but it is irrelevant. What is relevant is that Fili now thinks his feelings for his One is an illness he must overcome.”  
“I... I managed to talk to him. He was pretty angry at last and slammed the door into my face.”  
Dís sighed. “That is certainly better than brooding in despair.” She neatly folded the blanket and walked over to the chest where she kept the basket.

“Do you know where he went?”  
“No. I had the feeling he’d rather be alone.”  
“I hope he didn’t go back to Thorin.” Dís shook her head with a frown. “But that’s neither here nor there. I’m glad you got Fili at least to doubt Thorin’s words. He believed them as he left him.”  
“And now?”  
Dís shrugged. “I don’t know, Kili. I simply don’t know. Fili’s time of mourning is almost over, and Thorin will begin looking for another wife for him soon. If I had anything to say about it, there would be only one choice.” She sighed. “But I don’t. The only thing I can do is try to badger my brother out of it. But then, we’re both of the line of Durin and you know as well as I do how stubborn we all can be. You’d have more luck making ale by banging rocks together.”

Dís put the blanket into the basket and straightened up again. “If you can think of anything, no matter how useless you think it might be, I would be glad to hear it. Any thought could point us-” She broke off and looked down at the basket as she saw a movement from the corner of her eyes. 

A rather large, black spider balanced on the edge and scuttled lightning-fast into the folds of the blanket.

“Beasts.” Dís tore the blanket out of the basket and shook it; when that failed to produce the spider she took the basket itself and turned it upside down. “Get out of there, I’ve no intention to be bitten next time I...” 

The spider tumbled to the ground, followed by something larger and heavier that hit the ground with a clatter. The spider beat it and vanished under the chest.

While Dís folded the blanket again Kili bent down and picked the stone up to look at it. “It’s a piece of slate.”  
“Slate?”  
Kili turned the stone around and his eyes widened. “It’s her namestone.”  
“What?” Dís dropped the blanket and grabbed the stone from Kili’s hand.

The namestone, just as Kili had said. Every dwarf child had one of these in their cradle, engraved with his or her own name and the name of the parents, to have something to tell their soul where it came from until they knew their own name and those of mother and father. So Katla had one of those too, but instead of a polished piece of granite as was usually the custom, it was a piece of slate, and it wasn’t even polished.

“Who would give their child a namestone of slate?” Dís voice was full of sorrow.   
“Well... she is a half-breed,” Kili said. “She probably wasn’t wanted.”  
“Then why give her a namestone at all?”

Their eyes met and they shared a look of puzzlement. 

Dís ran her forefinger across the runes. “Katla, daughter of Kamma.”  
“She told me the stone had given her father’s name, and not her mother’s.” Kili scratched his chin.   
“Stop scratching your beard,” Dís said automatically. “That’s what it says. It’s her mother’s name. We can only assume the humans who took her in got that wrong.”

Kili stared at the stone and then shook his head. “Slate.”  
“I don’t know.” Dís looked at the stone. The longer I look at it, the more I think I’m missing something.”  
“It’s because you want to believe that.” Kili smoothed the yokes of his shirt. “As well as I do. We both want to find something in there so we can tell Thorin to fetch her back.”  
Dís turned the stone over in her palm for a few times. “I guess you’re right,” she finally admitted. 

Then she took the stone between two fingers and held it at an angle before her eyes. “Kili,” she whispered.  
Kili frowned and stepped closer.   
“Is it me, or is there a piece chipped off?”  
Kili took the stone from his mother’s hand and turned it slowly while staring at it with narrowed eyes. “I think there is. It looks like a piece of the outer layer is missing.”

Their heads leaning together, Dís and Kili kept staring at the stone in an attempt of finding out if it was true or imagination that a piece was missing. The piece where the name of her father might have been engraved.

“We can only make sure if there’s a piece missing with a magnifying glass.” Kili leaned back with a sigh.   
Dís frowned. “Where is Balin now?”  
“I don’t know. Most likely somewhere in the archives.”

They exchanged a single look, and in unspoken agreement, were out of the door in a quick stride.

They found Balin indeed in the archives, but only after a serious amount of searching and the help of Ori. When he heard what kind of request it was he lifted both of his snowy eyebrows, but instantly produced his pocket magnifier, held it in front of his eye and glared through the lenses at the piece of slate.

Kili, Dís and even Ori dared not to breathe.

When Balin lowered his glass and the stone again, he looked at the three of them with a face that was hard to read. He tilted his head for a second and pursed his lips.

“There is a piece missing,” he said. “But there’s no telling what had been on it.”  
“Of course not!” Kili took the stone and closed his fingers around it. “But what else would have been engraved there but her father’s name?”

“What else indeed.” Balin slipped the magnifier back into his pocket. “What if it was her father’s name, and it was a human name?”

Crestfallen, Kili frowned and his shoulders dropped. 

“I don’t care what kind of name it was,” Dís suddenly said into the silence. “She has a namestone, and therefore, she has to have a place in the Archives of Blood.”  
“As a half breed?” Balin weighed his head.  
“Is she one?” Dís crossed her arms. “She has a namestone, and her mother is a dwarf. There was a father’s name on the stone. Humans found her and concluded from this stone she is a half-breed. Didn’t you say yourself she looked like one of us?”  
Balin looked like he didn’t really want to agree but had to, anyway. “I did, and she does, although she doesn’t have chin-hair.”  
“I had hardly any chin-hair until I was over ninety,” Dís gave back.

She looked at Ori, at Kili, and then at Balin. “None of the things we actually know point at her being a half-breed. It’s guesswork. If no one had mentioned it before, wouldn’t we be inclined to give her the benefit of doubt?”  
Balin opened his mouth, then closed it. He shook his head and opened his mouth again. “We would,” he finally admitted.

Dís squared her shoulders and her face turned into a mask of determination. She took the stone and without looking back, she said: “Come with me, all of you.” 

All of a sudden, she was a princess of Durin’s line again, and there was no disobeying that voice, not even for a dwarf like Balin although he sighed as he followed her.

Disregarding any form of protocol Dís knocked at the door to Thorin’s study and entered in one stride without waiting for an answer. The other three dwarrow in her wake entered a little more hesitatingly or, in Ori’s case, fearfully. He looked as if he was trying to hide behind his quill that he hadn’t thought to put down as he had gone to help find Balin. 

“Dís.” Thorin frowned and looked at her retinue with mild confusion. “Will you care to tell me what this is about?”  
“I will, and I will not take more of your time than necessary.” Dís put the stone in front of him onto his desk.  
Thorin looked at his sister, at the stone, and back at Dís. “Yes?”

Dís took a deep breath and straightened up. “When Master Baggins was here last time, he brought me a gift from Katla. The basket she had been found in and the blanket she had been wrapped in. As a keepsake of my grandson. Today, I found this hidden under the blanket.”  
Thorin lifted his eyebrows and looked at the stone again to read the runes. “So?”  
“It is her namestone, Thorin. And if she has a namestone, she has to have a place in the Archives of Blood!”  
“Does she.” Thorin crossed his arms.   
“She does.” Dís crossed her arms as well.

The silence grew heavier with every passing moment. The two siblings of Durin’s blood matched each other’s stare of stubborn refusal to budge and the tension rose. 

“Put her name in the archives then,” Thorin finally said without taking his eyes of Dís. “But as long as she does not have a father to her name, she does not marry the heir to the throne.”

Dís searched her brother’s’ eyes, but she could feel that she had lost. She took the stone and made one last attempt. “But there was a name.” She looked at Balin for help. “A piece of the outer layer broke off.”  
“There was a name,” Balin agreed.  
“But you do not know what was on the piece that is missing.” Thorin looked from his sister to Balin.  
“No.”

Thorin’s eyes came to rest in his sister again. “I’m sorry, Dís. I know how hard this is for all of you, don’t think it isn’t hard for me to see Fili like this. But I can’t...”  
“But you can!” Dís held the stone out to him. “You can! You are the King! Your word is enough! One word, Thorin, just one word and her name will be cleared off...”  
“It can’t be.” Thorin shook his head. “And I won’t break my forefathers’ holy laws...”  
“To save your nephew and heir?”  
“He does not need saving.”

In helpless frustration, Dís slammed both her hands, palm down, onto Thorin’s desk, stone and all. 

“You stubborn _tharrbund_! Why is it that you want Fili to suffer?”  
“I do not want the lad to suffer!” Thorin’s voice rose now as well. “But I have more on my mind than the soft heartedness of a...”  
“Soft hearted?” Dís threw her hands into the air. “You call being in love soft hearted?”

“Excuse me...”

“I call being in love like he is, acting like a love sick puppy...”  
“You will not call my son a puppy!!” Dís almost impaled Thorin on her forefinger. Her eyes were glowing with rage.  
“I would call him a proper dwarf is he so chose to act like one!” Thorin shouted back.

“Erm... maybe you should...”

“So being a dwarf hewn of stone without feelings, is that what a proper dwarf is about?” A few strands of hair had escaped Dís’ braids and teetered around in front of her face. She didn’t seem to notice.  
“It is about strength of character!” Thorin curled his right hand into a fist. “Strength of body and will!”

“ _Amad_?”

“Oh and just because you have a soul made of stone you expect others to have one, too?”  
“It is certainly better than moping around and feeling miserable for years over a woman!”  
“Oh just a woman now, is it?” Dís spat. “Just a woman? Because the only thing you need a woman for is her womb and the rest is completely irrelevant, is that what you mean to tell ME?!”  
Thorin’s nostrils flared and he took a deep breath. 

“Stop it, both of you!” Balin grabbed each of the two combatants by one arm. “Stop it!”   
“You should... maybe have a look...” Ori ventured cautiously from behind Kili’s shoulder.   
“ _Amad._ ” Kili stepped to his mother’s side. “The stone.”

Dís lowered her eyes and saw the namestone she had slammed so carelessly onto Thorin’s desk. It had fallen apart.  
But it hadn’t fallen apart into pieces. It was slate a sedimentary rock made of layers, and it had fallen apart into thin slivers of stone that had tilted over like a stack of cards.

“How is that even possible?” Dís carefully picked the uppermost sliver up, the one with the names engraved on it. It was somewhat thicker than the rest.

Five pairs of eyes stared at the stone that had fallen apart like a book. Balin took his magnifier and picked up the next sliver, thin and delicate. It was covered in tiny runes.

“Ori?” Balin waved at the younger dwarf without taking his eyes off his magnifier. “I can’t read them.”

Ori cast a cautious look at Dís and Thorin and hurried to Balin’s side to look at the runes through the magnifier. “They’re very faint.”  
“But how is it possible?” Dís brushed the hairs back behind her ear. “I could imagine how to part the layers, but how to put them together again?”

His usual shyness forgotten as he was engrossed in the runes, Ori answered, his voice carrying excitement. “It’s a certain form of elemental magic,” he said. “It was used in the first age to transfer secret messages between the kingdoms and it was devised by Durin the sixth during the wars of-”  
“How do you know these things?” Kili looked baffled.  
“I read it in a book...” Ori ventured cautiously and blushed.  
“Stop tallying!” Dís interrupted. “What does it say?”

Focussing on the magnifier and the runes brought Ori back into his own territory. “These are Erebor runes.”  
“Erebor runes?” Thorin frowned and shook his head.  
“But only the Erebor runes have that distinct angle to the...”  
“The details of those runes are of no consequence!” Dís said.

“I disagree.” Thorin’s frown deepened. “What if it is a fake?”  
“Who would have faked it?” Dís stared at her brother. “Katla, who didn’t even know a word of Khuzdul? Or me? Did I fake it for the sake of my son?”  
Thorin opened his mouth, but thought better of it and shut it again.   
“Please continue,” Balin said diplomatically. “If there is one dwarf to determine if this is a fake, than that dwarf is you, Ori.”

Ori blinked a few times and looked through the magnifier again. “It is the old Erebor rune of P. He looked up, spotted Thorin’s quill and ink and took a piece of parchment. He wrote the rune and beside it, another, very similar one. “That is our rune for P. And that one is the old Erebor rune for P, as it was used back until the reign of Thror... ended...” Ori looked up at Thorin. “The same goes for the rune of Y.” Again, he wrote two very similar runes, one being a slightly more simplified version of the other. “So we can conclude that these runes were carved by someone who knows the old Erebor runes but not our version that we brought with us from Ered Luin.”

Five dwarrow stood around Thorin’s desk and looked back and forth between the piece of slate and Ori. 

Thorin was the first to speak, his eyes still resting on the parchment. “Continue. What do these runes say?”

Ori carefully took the sliver of slate, then the next one, and the next one, until he had all the pieces laid out in the correct order. He then took the quill and copied the runes onto the parchment. 

Then he cleared his throat. 

“The last survivors fled the dragonfire...”  
“Dragonfire?” Kili cleared his throat as four pairs of eyes glared at him. “Sorry.”

“The last survivors fled the dragonfire,” Ori went on. “Wandering the north. Trying to build a home in Ered Mithrin. The orcs came and took it from us after almost two hundred years.” He paused and using the magnifier, quickly looked back and forth between the stones. “Yes, that is right. Two hundred years.”  
“So there was a group of survivors we never knew about,” Balin whispered. 

Thorin froze upon hearing these words.

“Most that survived the orcs were taken by hunger and cold,” Ori continued. “Few of us came home, and found the dragon still alive. We are dwarrow, and we will fight. We trust our last surviving child into the care of Mahal should we fail. Her name is Katla, daughter of Kamma and daughter of Dalir, son of Damli, son of Dafur. May her eyes see our home one day.”

“They tried to take back Erebor...” Kili whispered. “And found only Smaug.”  
“How old is she?” Dís stared at the parchment with a pale face. “She can’t be much more than sixty and five.”  
“So little more than half a century ago another group of our kin tried and failed in what we finally have achieved.” Balin closed his eyes for a second. “Mahal rest them.”

“So.” Thorin took a slow, deep breath. “Apart from those runes, how can we say this is not a fake?”  
“Thorin.” Dís shook her head and reached out to touch his arm. “Who? Really, who could fake this? Katla cannot have done it, and why would she? She would never have mentioned being a half-breed at all if she wanted to be recognised as a dwarf. And I’ll gladly make any oath you want to hear that I have not done it, either. I found it in this basket. Then there is Bilbo...”  
“I get your point,” Thorin snapped, torn between anger and amusement at the thought of the hobbit trying to forge ancient dwarfish runes.

“But that...” Kili suddenly was wide alert. “That means we can bring her back! We have to bring her back!”  
“But how?” Dís smoothed her hair back. “We don’t know where she is!”  
“In the shire, I assume?” Balin frowned at her.  
“No.” Dís sighed. “Not any longer. “When Bilbo gave me that basket he informed me that she had left the Shire and that he could find no trace of where she might have gone.”  
“So she left the Shire four years ago and no one knows where she went.” Balin sadly shook his head. “Any trace she might have left is long gone cold by now.”

A weary silence settled over the dwarrow in Thorin’s study. 

“I know...” Kili suddenly whispered. “I know!”  
“What?” Dís looked at him imploringly as all heads turned his way.  
“I think I do,” Kili added. “I spoke with Fili once, a while ago, about her. And he told me that when they had parted, they had both been sad about the fact that the boy couldn’t grow up a dwarf!”  
“But what has that to do with...” Thorin began.  
“Everything!” Kili started to grin. “There’s only one reason she would have left the Shire: She wanted him to grow up a dwarf, so she went to find dwarrow to live with. And the nearest dwarrow settlement to the Shire...”  
“...is Ered Luin,” Dís finished for him, her voice trembling.

“I’ll be on my way with sunrise.” Kili’s voice was resolute and confident. “I’ll bring her back. Spring Equinox.”  
“Kili my lad, it is past Durin’s Day...” Thorin began.  
“Yes.” Kili shrugged. “Fili and I have made the journey to Ered Luin weeks after Durin’s Day, back after the battle. There’s no reason I couldn’t do it again.”

“You alone?”Thorin lifted his eyebrows.   
“I...” Kili swallowed. “I wouldn’t want to have Fili know of this. What if I am wrong and she is not in Ered Luin? He’d better not know until we’re sure we can bring her back.”  
“You still shouldn’t go alone, laddie.” Balin nodded. “But anyone of our old Company you’ll ask will gladly help, I gather.”  
“I’ll ask Bofur, and Bifur, and Dwalin.” Kili bit his lower lip. “Between the four of us, we’ll get her home safely.”  
“If you find her,” Dís said softly.

“We will find her, _Amad_.” Kili took her hands in his. “I will find her, no matter the cost. I find her and bring her back.”  
“What if... what if the worst has come to pass?”  
Kili lowered his eyes. “I will bring her back, _Amad_.” Then he looked up again. “Either way, her final resting place will be the tombs of her forefathers.”  
Dís nodded silently.

“Then it is agreed.” Thorin carefully collected the slivers of slate and put them onto the parchment. “Kili will go to Ered Luin tomorrow.”  
“I am glad you...”  
Thorin gave his sister a look under lowered lids. “These were warriors of Erebor who survived Smaug and later were killed by him after all when trying to regain their home. They wished for this child to see their home again, and I am honouring that last wish.”  
Dís turned around and shook her head. “As you will, brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _tharrbund_ : Rockhead


	31. Chapter 31

_It is dark and cold around him, a suppressing darkness that seems to be alive. A coldness that is chilling him to the core of his soul. He is lost and he is trying to find his way, only he can’t remember where to. Something tells him he is running out of time, so he begins to hurry, and eventually, to run. He needs to reach... something. Or someone? He can’t remember._

_Then he sees a light. A faint gleam in the darkness ahead, and he makes for the light, running even faster. A silhouette forms in front of the light, a woman, and as she turns around, he recognises her. And behind her, the dim light reveals the outline of something huge, something even darker than the darkness around him._

_She is unaware of death lurking behind her, and he shouts a warning._

_“Katla!”_

_As much as he runs, he cannot get closer._

_“Katla!!”_

_The dark void behind her grows. He tries to run, but is frozen to the ground._

_“KATLA!!”Flailing and kicking, Fili fell out of the bed and as he gasped for air, he looked around to find himself in his bedroom, his legs tangled in the blanket._   
_With a groan, he dragged himself into the bed again, shuddering with cold that the blanket could do nothing against._

* * *

Katla jerked up from her slumber, suddenly wide awake. Someone had called her... but it had just been a dream... hadn’t it? It had been Fili’s voice.  
With a sigh, Katla closed her eyes again, but then she smelled it. She jumped out of the bed, grabbed her sleeping son who howled in protest and ran out of the hut as fast as she could.

The night was lit in orange, and the crackle of the flames made her shudder. Moments after she had shot through the door, the roof collapsed in a shower of sparks and burning timber. Alarm calls sounded through the night, windows lit up, and men and women began to wake, and run outside to save panicking livestock and build bucket chains with water. Two empty sheds had already burned to the ground.

Katla hugged her wailing child to her chest and stared at the heap of burning wood and cinders where only moments ago, she and her son had been fast asleep.

* * *

Fili hadn’t slept any more at all that night, and when he dragged himself into the hall for breakfast, he overheard bits and pieces of conversation about his brother and a mission. He forced a few pieces of bread down followed by a cup of milk, and went to find his brother.

As it turned out, Kili had already left, without as much as a goodbye for his brother. With a deep frown and more than a little disappointed, Fili went to find his mother. She was in her halls, working on a large quilt with the rest of her ladies.

“Mother?”

Dís looked up, and upon seeing his facial expression, ran her needle loosely into the cloth and got up. Fili followed her into her private chamber and crossed his arms as Dís closed the door behind her.

“I guess you want to know where your brother has gone?”  
“Indeed.”

His mother met his eyes and noticed how tired he looked. When was the last time he had had a good night’s sleep? She gathered her thoughts and cleared her throat.

“He left with the first light of dawn. Thorin has sent him on a mission.”  
“A mission.” Fili stared at her under lowered eyelids. “A mission so secret he couldn’t even say goodbye to me?”  
Dís pressed her lips together. “Thorin has...”  
“Asked him for secrecy, I guess.” Fili dropped his arm and wandered aimlessly over to a small table, picked up the figurine standing there and looked at it in mild disinterest. “So he wouldn’t have to lie to me.”  
“I guess so.”

Fili put the figurine down again and turned around. “He could at least have waited until the third year has passed completely,” he said. “He is the one who keeps going on about the ancient laws, after all.” Then he shrugged. “A few weeks are not going to make a difference, anyway.”  
“What do you mean?” Dís could hear her voice waver.  
“What I mean?” A mirthless chuckle escaped her son. “I am not a fool, mother. He’s send Kili to find me another bride. He could have just told me, I wasn’t expecting to have any choice in the matter this time, either.”  
“Fili...” Dís wrung her hands.  
“It matters not.” Fili headed for the door.

“Fili, wait.”  
He stopped, his hand hovering over the handle. “What is it?”  
“Fili.” Dís stepped to his side. “You do not honestly believe what Thorin said to you about the dragon sickness?”  
Fili met her eyes, but Dís found she could no longer read him.

“That matters little, either.” Fili shrugged. “If it is a sickness or no, I’d be better off without it. I just hope I’ll have better luck with this one. It would be bad for the reputation of Durin’s line if I kept on using up wives the way other people use shirts.”  
His words stabbed Dís like a dagger. “Fili...”

But her son just shrugged and left her.

As Dís settled down to her needlework again, a memory rose from the bottom of her heart, a memory she had hoped to have banished. She let it come back, probing the pain like a tongue would a sore tooth, and as her fingers deftly worked, her mind went back two hundred years in time.

She had been very young, just on the verge of womanhood, when she had been crowned the Emerald Princess. It was later that same year that another princess had been crowned, a princess who had later been removed from the family annals and the Archives of Blood, forced to live in shame and disgrace. Dís closed her eyes for a moment as she remembered Skadi.

A beautiful woman with raven-dark hair and fierce green eyes, she had been crowned the Onyx Princess after her marriage to Flovin, son of Flói, son of Fror, brother to Thror, King under the Mountain. The wedding and subsequent coronation had been the first events in Dís’s life she had partaken in as a princess, and that was probably why she remembered them so vividly.

Skadi had come from the Kingdom of Ered Gethrin close to the Sea of Rhun, a young woman a very long way from home, married to a man she had never seen before.  
Dís had few memories of Flovin other than the fact that he and her brothers were not at the best of terms. That had only become worse after Flovin had married.  
Because Flovin had cared little about his beautiful wife. Thorin, on the other hand...

Dís heaved a heavy sigh. Thorin had taken one look at her, during the wedding, and had lost his heart and his soul to the woman who was now his cousin’s wife. He had later confided his love for Skadi in his sister, as there had always been a deep bond of trust and love between them. Dís, in her youth, had not fully understood back then what the true meaning of his words had been, but as the years passed, she had come to realise.

When after several years, Skadi had failed to produce an heir, Flovin had applied for abrogation of their marriage and found himself another woman.  
It had been a bitter day for Skadi when Flovin announced that his first heir would be born soon.

Skadi had lost her husband and her status as princess, but had still been a lady in the court of the Topaz Princess, the wife of Thrain, until her family would fetch her home. But when it became clear that she was the barren one, her family refused to take her back, and she became a discarded, unwanted wife.

Dís sighed and looked at her needle that had come to a halt. She felt the looks of the other ladies on her, but could not help her brooding.  
The poor, poor woman. Dís had felt so sorry for her as she had watched her leave the halls of her grandmother, but she wasn’t even allowed to tell her goodbye.

Because there was only one place for a woman who had been cast out in shame and disgrace. A place no one spoke about, certainly no woman. And while men did not deny its existence, they didn’t speak about it publicly, either. Back then, Dís hadn’t even known such a place existed in Erebor, and it was only because of her brother’s dark desperation that she learned about the House of Pleasure, where a man could buy himself the body of a woman if he could not find relief otherwise. And the women in that place had no name anymore, they were just laszâna – lust-women.

And her brother had been forced to watch the woman he loved fall from princess to whore. He could have saved her. He could have spared her the cruel fate, but even back then, he was so immersed in his thoughts of duty that he denied himself that possibility. He was the heir to the throne, he needed heirs of his own. He could not go and marry a barren woman. He had told his sister that many times, in tears and in anger and in helpless desperation.

In the end, he had lost her for good. When Smaug had come, few of the inhabitants of the lower levels of Erebor had made it out alive and Dís had not seen Skadi again.

Until they had met again in Ered Luin, years later and after Dís had become a mother and been widowed. Skadi had stood in front of her door one day to beg her for help, after she had heard about Dís’s fate and realised her old friend was still alive. Dís had been horrified at her state, haggard with hunger and clad in naught but rags.  
Not even the poverty and bitter fate of their exile had let the dwarrow forget or forgive the laszâna their existence, as it seemed.

But not so for Dís. She had shed bitter tears for the fate of her friend from olden times, and she had done what was in her power to find a place for her. In the end, one of her own dearest friends, Elira, the wife of Gloín, had realised the cruelty in this treatment and taken her in as a serving woman, the best they had been able to do for her. Gloín hadn’t been happy, but he never said a bad word about Skadi and with time, grown to like and respect her.

Dís continued her sewing and pressed her lips together. Thorin could have saved her then. And he was about to, when their life changed yet again. Thorin had even begun courting her, and for the first time in so long a time, Skadi had been given hope for her future. And then...  
Then a wizard showed up with a map and a key, and suddenly Thorin was heir to a throne once more.

Dís wasn’t even sure she had come to Erebor with them, she had left Gloín’s household shortly after Thorin had left for his quest. With a heavy sigh, she looked up.

“What is it, Dís?” Míl let her needle rest, and Elira did likewise. “What is so heavy on your heart?”  
“Old memories.” Dís looked back and forth between her old friends. “I just realised that if we had never been forced to leave Erebor, I would never have known you. As it is, I call you my closest friends, and with our fate having changed, you are now ladies of a princess’ court.”

Her two friends exchanged a glance. “That is true,” Elira said. “We have been very lucky.”  
“Yes, we all have. I never believed that I should ever be called the Emerald Princess again. But there are others who have not been so fortunate as us.”  
“True.” Míl tilted her head. “Who are you thinking of?”  
“I am thinking of another old friend of mine who has been suffering from bad luck ever since she first came here.”

“Skadi.”Elira met Dís’s eyes. “It is her you think of, isn’t it?”  
“I don’t know how you did this, but yes.” A faint smile played on Dís’s lips. “Yes, we were friends before brutal laws made by heartless old men forced her into a cruel and dolorous fate.”  
Míl shook her head. “Did she make it to Erebor at all?”

“She did.” Dís swallowed. “I saw her once, or I think it was her. She was headed for the kitchen with two pails of water, and I hailed her, but she never showed she heard me. Either it wasn’t her, or she wanted to ignore me. I couldn’t blame her if that was the case.”

Míl and Elira exchanged a thoughtful look.

“But you have never done anything to harm her,” Elira finally ventured.  
“I don’t know.” Dís met her eyes. “Not consciously. But I surely am the bearer of bad news for her, and a trigger for bad memories.”

Her two friends fell silent, and Dís swore to herself to try and find her again, to talk to her again. Maybe Skadi could help Thorin discover that he still had a heart.

* * *

In the weeks that followed, Fili began to spend more and more time in the forge to avoid Thorin who in turn, let him be.  
In the knowledge that once his brother returned from wherever Thorin had sent him, he would have to begin courting again, Fili felt anger and frustration rise in him every time he thought about it, and the forge was the only place he could go to channel that anger into something other than aimless roaming.

He found peace in the familiar rhythm of bellow and hammer; his earliest memories were those of being in the forge with his mother. And he felt satisfaction upon finishing a piece of work that had gone well.

Being in the forge gave him a sense of purpose again that he somehow had managed to lose, and he spend more and more of his time at the anvil, or labouring with the other workers to clean the furnaces, refill them, shovel coal and slag, and ferry heavy wheelbarrows around. He felt better than he had in months, and wondered why he hadn’t come back here sooner.

He filled his days with hard labour, his evenings with a long bath in the bathhouse, and the exhaustion of his daily work helped him sleep a little better. He knew he was making use of what little freedom was left to him before Thorin remembered his heirs had other duties, and this made him savour his work even more.

He missed his brother, though. He would have liked to spend his evenings with Kili, sitting in a tub and drinking ale, chatting at the fire over a pipe. But thinking of his brother made him remember why he was gone, and that once he came back, his days of freedom would be over.

* * *

It was a week before midwinter when Dís finally found her old friend again. Míl and Elira had made enquiries and found out she worked in the kitchen for the royal household. Dìs had attempted several times to talk to her but Skadi had pretended not to know her. Dís had let her be every time, but this time, she had promised herself not to give up. She kept thinking of Fili, and that hardened her resolve.

This close to the midwinter celebration, the kitchen was a madhouse filled with flurries of activities. In the middle of all this, Bombur’s wife stood and directed the maids and servants like a queen of her own little kingdom, pointing here, shouting there, expecting every order to be carried out accordingly, yelling when that wasn’t the case, but also praising when something had been done well.

Oddní was Bombur’s match in size, a woman of massive proportions but with a heart of gold. Sometimes, Dís couldn’t help but wonder how in Mahal´s name these two had managed to produce seven children, but they were obviously very fond of each other and love would find a way.

Dís made her way through the chaos, until she spotted her in a corner scrubbing pots.

“Skadi.”  
She looked up, and a wisp of her black hair had escaped her headscarf. She brushed it back with a soapy hand. “My princess?”  
“Skadi, please.” Dís swallowed. “I know I should have looked for you sooner. I am sorry that I haven’t.”  
Skadi shrugged.  
“Skadi. I am sorry. I honestly thought you hadn’t come with us to Erebor. And then... you pretended not to know me.”  
“You have a reputation to loose, my princess. You shouldn’t be talking to the likes of me.” Skadi finally looked up, and Dís could see she still wore the small ring in the ala of her nose that marked her a shamed woman, a laszûna.

“Skadi. We were friends once, before you fell foul of a very cruel fate. I would have us be friends again if you want it. Take that ring off, I would give you the status of a widow and you could...”  
“I could what?” Skadi straightened up and wiped her hands on her dirty apron. “Be a lady in your court? The King would never allow that.”  
Dís did not fail to hear the special stress she had put on the words ‘the King’. “My retinue is my business alone,” she said.  
“But he would have to agree anyway.” Skadi shook her head. “And he won’t. Everyone knows what I am.”

Dís sighed. “But why are you still wearing that ring? Why did you not take it off?”  
“I cannot be taken off.” She shook her head. “But it saves me telling any man I am not worth courting.” She bent over her pot again and resumed her scrubbing.

Dís hesitated for a moment, and her voice was low when she spoke again. “I know of one who would not look at you that way.”  
Skadi paused and slowly looked up. “You believe that, do you?”  
“I know it. He still loves you.”  
Skadi snorted softly. “If he does, then he has a very poor way of showing it.”  
“And don’t I know it...” Dís shook her head. “But... Skadi, if he came to you, would you...”  
“He won’t come to me.” Skadi furiously attacked the pot with her brush. “And even if he did, I’m not sure I can forgive him. I did, back then when both his father and grandfather were still alive. But what he did to me in Ered Luin... I don’t know if I can forgive him that.”

“And I would not blame you if you never did.” Dís put a hand on her arm. “I am actually not sure he has forgiven himself.”  
“What is it you want?” Skadi snarled. “There is no going back! And now leave me alone, I have work to do!”

Dís sighed but left her alone. She had had hopes that being reunited with his love would make Thorin see that there was more to life than duty. But it seemed her efforts in helping the men she loved were all doomed to fail.


	32. Chapter 32

Snowfall had come late that winter, but when the cold came, it came with a vengeance. Within a few days the river and lake were covered in ice, and the snow just kept on falling and falling, covering everything under thick pillows of white.

It was when the snowfall had finally stopped, or maybe only paused for a while, that Dís asked her son to accompany her to the markets of Dale as she needed to shop for fabrics. Fili agreed, and wrapped in furs and heavy wool, Dís, Fili and two servants left Erebor and headed for the city of Men. The sky was a bright, clear blue, and the low-hanging winter sun made the snow gleam and glitter, making it hard to look upon in its blinding whiteness.

Dís acquired several bales of heavy woollen cloth and had taken fancy to a few others, as well. Fine silk it was, coming from far to the south, cool and smooth to the touch and shimmering in many-facetted colours. Dís chose one of dark green and another of golden colour, paid for her purchase and left the shop, leaving her servants to pick up the cloth and carry it back to her halls while she and her son strolled a little through the market and browsed the wares on display.

They finally decided to head home when the cold began to seep through their heavy furs and headed down the stairs and winding streets to the valley floor. They passed a group of playing children, both human and dwarf, chasing each other while laughing despite their red and runny noses.

Dís was just about to comment on the fact that the children of the two people got along much better than the adults when behind them, a dog barked and a horse whinnied in shock.  
Fili spun around to see the horse had already thrown off his rider and headed straight for the bridge at full speed. The children screamed and scattered like a flock of chickens.

And suddenly Fili saw that one of the younger dwarf children had lost his footing on a spot of ice and had landed on his backside. He stared at the galloping horse, frozen to the spot. Fili broke into a run.

He reached the boy just as the horse did, throwing himself between the child and the animal, and spooked the horse even more. It reared and caught Fili in the ribs, knocking him over and sending him sprawling over the railing of the bridge.

With a scream, Dís broke into a run as well, only to see Fili’s body sink into the ice cold water, the momentum of his fall having broken the ice.  
But several others had seen his fall as well. Half a dozen Men were already on their way down towards the river with a ladder, and within minutes, they had reached the hole in the ice and pulled Fili out again. Dís hurried to his side as fast as she could, and disregarding sludge, mud and snow, fell onto her knees beside her son. His face was white and his lips were blue, but he was still breathing.

The Men who had saved him carried him to the gates where a couple of dwarrow took him and carried him to his chambers.

Dís lost no time, she summoned servants, had them make a hot bath, and throwing her cloak to the ground as soon as she entered Fili’s halls, she headed for his bedchamber to stoke the fire.

Fili and his bath arrived almost at the same time, and a servant helped her undress him and lower him into the bathtub. Dís stood behind him, holding his head as he was still unconscious and murmured endearments and encouragements to her son. Once Fili had been settled in his bed with a hot stone at his feet, Dís had the servants summon Oín, the apothecary, and get a message to the King.

Then she sat beside Fili on the bed and finally, allowed herself a moment of panic. Years of motherhood had taught her this skill, to function first and to worry later. Now, that everything had been taken care of, she allowed herself to let go, and she held on to Fili’s hand while tears trickled down her cheeks.

Thorin entered the chambers a little while later, and he sat down on Fili’s other side, taking his other hand. Oín came with a herbal brew that they were supposed to give him, and told them to keep him warm.

Some hours later, Fili woke up, shivering so hard his teeth clattered. He managed to down something of Oíns brew before closing his eyes again, but he didn’t stop shivering for a very long while. When he finally had fallen asleep again Thorin left them, but Dís stayed at his side throughout the night.

Come morning, Fili was still asleep, but something had change. His face was no longer white, it had a strange flush to it that was a stark contrast to his paleness from the night before. Dís felt his forehead, and shook her head with a sigh. Fili was developing a fever.

* * *

The High Pass had been well traversable due to the late snowfall, and with good spirits Kili and his companions headed west for Ered Luin. They took the West-East Road passing through Rhudaur and past the Weathertop, and finally through the Shire where an unsuspecting but very pleasantly surprised Hobbit offered them food, warmth and a place to sleep. They parted with the promise of picking him up on their way back east.

Ered Luin was only a few days away now.

“That sure feels strange,” Bofur said as the mountains grew out of the mist before them. “I know every single peak and it should feel like coming home... but it doesn’t.”  
Dwalin shifted in his saddle and shrugged.  
“I know, I know.” Bofur flashed him a good natured grin. “You were born in that mountain, but I wasn’t. It still is home, and that’s what feels strange.”  
“It’s where we belong,” Dwalin said. “Nothing strange about it.”  
“If you put it that way...”

It became increasingly difficult to find decent camp spots as the hills rose up to the mountains and the snowfall caught up with them, but only two days later, around noon, they had finally reached their destination, the old settlement of Ered Luin, the one where the dwarrow had lived before the refugees of Erebor had built a new one that now lay empty.

Dwalin caught up with Kili who had halted his horse. “What is it, laddie?”  
Kili shrugged. “I’m worried. What if she’s not here? What if we don’t find her?”  
“We will,” the old warrior gave back. “We will.”  
Kili tried to share his optimism as he nudged his pony into a walk again.

As the dwarrow of Ered Luin had always had dealings with Men a part of the settlement was built outside of the mountain gates, namely a large inn where merchants and travellers could stay while they had business with the dwarrow, a few stables for livestock and a few craftsmen and workshops.  
As the dwarrow of Erebor passed through the streets they noticed that there had been a fire quite recently that had burned several houses down to the foundations.

Kili hadn’t thought it possible to be more worried, but when he saw the burned houses, he did get more worried. When they had finally reached the small town square in front of the inn and dismounted, Kili was so lost in his self-doubts that he almost failed to notice the small gaggle of children who had been chasing each other and now stood rooted to the spot, their game forgotten, to stare at the strangers that had entered their town.

Bofur waved at them with a friendly grin, and Kili looked up, followed his glance and saw the children, too. All of them were wrapped in thick shawls and hoods, but a few of them had their hoods down the back after their running game. Kili was about to smile at them when he caught sight of one of the smaller boys.

Golden hair framed his face, the braids a little untidy from their wild playing, and a pair of blue eyes stared at him, so familiar that for a split-second, Kili was confused because it felt so wrong to look _down_ into those eyes and not _up_.  
His guts went cold and he took a cautious step towards the children, his eyes on the golden-haired boy. The children parted around him, and Kili cautiously lowered himself onto one knee.

“Are you Frerin?” He asked.  
The boy nodded with a frown. “And who are you?”  
Kili felt a grin split his face that he couldn’t suppress. “I’m Kili. I’m your uncle!”  
“I don’t have an uncle...” the boy replied.  
“Well, you have. I’m your father’s brother.”  
“I don’t have a father!” The boy – Frerin – took a step back and Kili’s heart jumped. “He died in battle before I was born!”

Kili took a deep breath. “Well, you see, that’s why I’m here. I need to talk to your mother. Can you lead me to your home?”  
“I don’t know you.” The boy frowned.  
“Well, as I said, I am Kili, your uncle.” Kili got up and presented his companions. “The one with the fierce scowl is your cousin Dwalin. That one, with the silly hat, is Bofur. And that is Bifur.”  
Frerin tilted his head and pursed his lips, a gesture utterly familiar to the four dwarrow who all had known Fili since childhood. “He’s got an axe in his head.”  
“Yes, he’s got an axe in his head.” Kili nodded.

Childish fascination won over distrust and Frerin jogged over towards Bifur. “Does it hurt?”  
The grizzled warrior shook his head. “ _Lu´!_ ”  
“Was that an orc?”  
“ _Kun! Rukhas shirumundu!_ ”  
Frerin scratched his head. “Why can’t you speak Westron?”  
“It’s because of that axe in his head,” Bofur explained.

Frerin turned around again to look at Kili. “Are you really my uncle?”  
“I swear upon Durin’s b... beard.” Kili lifted his right hand.  
A broad grin spread on Frerin’s face, reminding Kili yet again how much the boy resembled his father. “ _Amad_ will be so happy!”

He jogged off and waved at Kili to follow him.

“You go, laddie!” Dwalin dismounted and waved him off. “We’ll see to the ponies!”  
“Aye!” Kili waved as well and followed the impatiently waiting Frerin.

“ _Amad!_ ” Frerin ran towards the door of a small hut with a chicken coop attached to it. “ _Amad!_ ”  
The door opened and a woman, her head covered in a scarf and a large earthenware bowl in her hand, looked out. “Frerin?”  
“ _Amad!_ ” The boy increased his speed and grabbed his mother’s hand, tugging at it to make her leave the doorframe. “ _Amad!_ Uncle Kili is here!”

The bowl fell out of her hands and shattered on the doorstep. Peeled potatoes rolled unheeded into the snow.

Kili felt relief so intense that he had almost laughed aloud. “Katla?”  
Her face almost as white as the snow covering the roof behind her, Katla took a step forward, disregarding the shards and peeled potatoes. “Kili?”  
Kili opened his arms with a grin.

“Kili!” Tears brimming in her eyes, she broke into a run and threw herself into his arms. “Mahal be blessed,” she whispered into his shoulder. “Kili...” Then she leaned back, the tears running unheeded down her face. “What in Mahal’s name are you doing here?” Then her face went even paler. “Is Fili with you?”  
“No.” Kili put both hands onto her shoulder. “No, he’s still in Erebor. But before you get sad about the fact, how about we pick those potatoes up and go inside? I’ve got a lot to talk to you about.”  
Katla nodded and wiped her eyes with a corner of her apron. “Come in, please. I have a pot of dandelion coffee brewing.”

Once two steaming mugs were put onto the table and Frerin sent out again, equipped with a slice of bread with butter and jam, Kili and Katla sat down and Kili took both her hands in his.

“I’ve got a bit of news for you, Katla. Momentous news.”  
Katla met his eyes, her eyebrows drawing together. “Yes?”  
Kili took a deep breath. “That basket you sent to my mother?”  
“Yes?”Katla swallowed. “What about it?”  
“Mother found your namestone in it.”

“That piece of slate?” Katla shrugged. “I didn’t want it here. No one knows I’m a half-breed and I intend to keep it that way.”  
“See, that namestone...” Kili licked his lips. “That piece of slate... it wasn’t just a piece of slate.”  
With her frown deepening, Katla tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

Kili bit his lower lip and after another deep breath, he explained to Katla what had happened, and what they had learned about the stone and then subsequently, about her. Katla grew more and more still, her face becoming paler, her eyes growing wider. When finally, Kili had ended his explanation, he squeezed her hands and held on tight.

“But...” Katla swallowed. “But that...”  
“That means,” Kili said gently. “That you are no half-breed, Katla. You are a descendant of dwarrow from Erebor.”  
For a few seconds, it was as if Katla had been turned to stone. Then she got up, clutching a fold of her apron, and walked a few steps away from the table. Kili looked at her, unsure what to do, when he noticed that her shoulders began to tremble. He cautiously got up.

“But it’s too late, isn’t it?” Her voice shook. “It can’t be that...”  
“Katla...” Kili placed his hand onto her shoulder. “I’m here to take you home.”

He caught her just in time as her legs gave way under her. Holding her in a firm embrace he rocked her as she wept into his shoulder in long, drawn out sobs.

“It’s all right,” he muttered. “Everything is going to be all right again. You’re going home.”

* * *

At first, Dís was only mildly concerned about Fili’s fever. But as the days passed by, the fever got worse. It rose, and she and her servants spent days and nights wiping his burning body down with cold, moist cloths to cool it. Oín’s fever draughts had little effect.

A week had passed since his accident now, and no improvement was in sight. Sometimes, he would lie still, his breathing uneven and shallow, and sometimes he would toss and mumble things Dís couldn’t understand. The fever was still rising, and a few days later, Fili suffered from the first fever-spasms. Dís did not leave his side anymore after that and slept beside him in the large double bed.

It got increasingly difficult to get him to drink anything, he was growing weaker with every passing day. Oín was at his wit’s end.

“I don’t understand it.” He shook his head. “He’s a strong, young lad. A fever shouldn’t have such an effect on him. It’s as if he...”  
“As if he what?” Dís felt she almost knew the answer, and was proven right when Oín finished his sentence.  
“As if he isn’t fighting it.”

Dís closed her eyes and took her son’s hand in hers. Oín left, and she was alone with her firstborn who was about to die of a fever because he had saved a little dwarfling’s life.

“Fili,” she whispered. “We need you. I need you. Please stay with me. Don’t die away from me, please.”

She knew it wouldn’t help, and she knelt at his bed, her forehead resting on his hand, and prayed.

That evening, Thorin entered the bedroom again, and Dís could see that he was deeply worried, too. He knelt down at Fili’s other side and took his other hand, and together, Dís and Thorin held on to him, willing him to live through another night. They both knew that his fever-ridden body would not be able to withstand many more of those.

The fever rose again, and Fili began to shake so hard his teeth ground together. Dís couldn’t stop her tears anymore as she wiped his face with a wet cloth to cool it.

“My poor love,” she whispered. “My dear boy, please hold on. You can’t just die like this.”  
With a heavy sigh, Thorin leaned forward and ran a thumb over the back of Fili’s hand. “Fili, my boy. Listen to me.” He cleared his throat and lowered his head so his mouth was closer to Fili’s ear. “You have to hold on. We are bringing her back, do you understand? She’s coming home, my boy. Don’t let her find you dead.”

Dís straightened up, surprise mingling with confusion in her eyes as she looked at her brother. When Thorin noticed her stare he met her gaze. They looked at each other for a moment, and Thorin was the first to break the gaze again. They focussed on Fili again after the silent exchange, and no further words were spoken that night.

* * *

_A cave, a dark and cold cave, a giant cave, so huge that she can neither see nor feel the walls or the roof. But she knows she is in a cave, although she does not know how she knows. She is trying to find her way out, but she cannot reach a wall that she could follow to an exit._

_She goes forward, hands held out in front of her, but there is no wall._

_Instead, the air gets warmer. There is a very faint light ahead, and she walks towards it. The light grows, the air gets warmer. She can see the cave now, high above the ceiling, far away are the walls. The air is so warm now that she starts to sweat._

_She walks onward, and the heat becomes oppressive. But there is something ahead, she can see a movement. Then she steps into the light, and looks at a dragon._

_A huge dragon, his head easily the size of two fully grown bulls. A long, slender neck, the body so vast it vanishes in the distance behind him. The dragon looks at her without menace._

_She comes closer, and sees something between the dragon’s forelegs. There, between the enormous claws, is a large slab of stone, roughly rectangular in shape. Someone is lying on that slab._

_As she comes closer, she suddenly recognises him. It is Fili, and he is chained to the stone. The heat is burning her, drying her skin, so hot it is almost impossible to breathe._  
_Fili is lying still, his eyes are closed, but his chest is still moving. The dragon hovers above, and his breathing is what heats the air. It is almost impossible to bear._

_“You are killing him,” she says to the dragon. “Please let him go.”_

_The dragon looks at her impassively._

_She tries to free him, but the chains do not give. She cannot free him, and the dragon above is killing him._

_“You are killing him. Let him go, or go away!”_

_The dragon swivels his eyes and looks at her. His eyelids droop, his nostrils flare, and Fili moans._

_“Go away! You’re killing him! Go away!”_

_The dragon rises onto his forelegs and lowers his head. The heat takes her breath._

_He is killing Fili. In desperation, she steps between him and the dragon. “Go away! You shall not have him! Go away! GO AWAY!”_

_The dragon rears up and roars. And suddenly, the cave is dark and cold._

_“Fili?”_

_No answer._

_“Fili?”_

_In the darkness, she turns and feels around, but there is nothing. She takes a few steps, and suddenly she steps into nothing, and falls._

Katla jerked awake, shivering with cold. It took her a second to realise she had only dreamt of falling into darkness. But then she remembered the rest of her dream, of Fili and the dragon. She fell back into her pillows and sighed. Of course she would dream of him, now that Kili suddenly had appeared into her life and told her he was going to take her home to Erebor.

Images of the dream were still haunting her, and soon after, she could hear the cockerel announcing the beginning of the new day. Forcing the memory of her strange dream out of her mind, she left her bed. She had a lot to do today.

* * *

Thorin and Dís had sat with Fili through the night. They both knew that this was the night that would determine if he would live. Two weeks with fever had weakened his body and the next fever-spasm could easily kill him.  
They held on to his hands in silence, willing him to live and silently begging Mahal to save him. Time lost all meaning to them.

It was the sound of the door as a servant entered the main room beyond the bedroom doors that made them realise the new day had arrived, and both Dís and Thorin looked at Fili who was laying very still but was still breathing. Dís leaned over him to feel his forehead and couldn’t suppress a sob of relief.

The fever had finally broken.


	33. Chapter 33

The winter was well on its way and Midwinter had long since passed, and while the world was still crusted with ice and dusted with snow, the wind had less of a bite. The crunching of the snow underfoot told of days becoming warm enough to occasionally smelt the uppermost layer of snow, even if it froze solid again at night.

After the fever had left him, Fili had been quick to recover and was back in the forges. He needed the heavy work as it was the only thing that helped him sleep, due to simple physical exhaustion. But it also gave his mind the time to roam freely, and mostly, his thoughts went to the near future and what was awaiting him when his brother would come back. Would he bring his new bride with him? Or would Fili have to go travelling again?

He sincerely hoped that if that was the case, he would not be forced to go to Ered Luin and travel through the Shire. He had no idea if he could withstand the temptation.

And then the day came where Ysona had died three years ago. For the last time, Fili placed a sprig of rosemary onto her coffin and left, feeling a strange mix of sadness and relief. His time with her had come to a close, and he knew he would never venture down here again.

It felt strange, after three years, when he put on his old garments the next morning after wearing only white for so long. It felt even stranger to finally braid his hair and moustache again. As he looked into his mirror he felt, for a moment, as if a stranger was looking back at him, but after a few moments, the image in the mirror gave him a faint, lopsided smile. 

But as the days passed, the thought about having to marry again began to trouble him more and more until he could finally stand it no longer; he cleaned up after his day in the forge one evening and went to find his mother in her private chambers. 

She didn’t answer to his knocking, despite a servant having told him she was in her chamber and still awake. He knocked again, and when she still did not answer, he cautiously opened the door and peeked inside. 

Dís was sitting ona chair at the hearth and looked as if she was asleep.

“ _Amad?_ ”  
She jumped out of her chair with a little yelp of surprise. “Mahal!” she gasped, clutching her throat. “Fili, you gave me quite a fright there.”  
“I can see that.” Fili walked in and closed the door, then noticed that his mother was clutching a piece of paper. “Are you reading secret love letters, that you’re so lost in thoughts you didn’t hear me knock?” 

Yet his feeble attempt at a joke fell on barren ground. His mother just stared at him and clutched the little piece of paper in her hand. 

“ _Amad?_ ” Fili took a step towards her. “What is wrong?”  
Dís shook herself out of her trance. “Nothing.” She tried to smile. “Nothing is wrong, it’s just...”

Fili crossed his arms and lifted one eyebrow. Still clutching the, by now rather crumpled, note between her fingers, Dís looked down and her shoulders heaved and fell again with a heavy sigh. 

“We need to talk,” she said. “Please, sit down.”

Fili sat, a frown appearing on his face and Dís sat opposite him, still unable to meet his eyes. Instead, she focussed on the piece of paper, smoothing it on her thigh. Fili watched this for a while until he lost his patience. 

“What is it, then? Is this about my new wife?”  
His mother finally looked up. “Isn’t that why you came here?”  
Fili blinked a few times. “It is... so it’s as well that you wished to talk about it, too.”

She nodded and after a moment, she got up and put the note on the mantelpiece. “Come, I have something I need to show you.”  
Fili got up, his frown turning into puzzlement, as he followed his mother into a corner of the room to a large chest.

“When Bilbo came to visit, the spring after your wedding,” Dís began as she unlocked the chest, “he brought me a gift.”  
“A gift.” Fili’s voice was flat. 

Her hands were trembling when she reached into the chest and produced the basket. 

Fili instantly recognised it, of course. During the journey from Katla’s little hut to Erebor, the last days he had been allowed to spend with her, he had watched her put the boy to sleep in it every night. His throat went dry, and the memory of the tiny face of his sleeping infant son came back to him more vividly than ever before.

When he met his mother’s eyes again, Dís watched him with a compassionate smile. “My love, I can’t even say how much...” She broke off and shook her head. “How much I wish that I had known all this sooner.”  
“What?” The word was a hoarse rasp, as were those that followed. “Known what?”

Dís ran her hand over the blanket. “I had it for years, Fili, and it was only a few months ago that I found... under the blanket... her namestone.”  
“Her namestone.” Fili crossed his arms. “She told me about it once. It had her name on it, and her father’s.”  
“In fact, it is her mother’s name.” Dís went over to a chest of drawers and opened the top drawer from which she took a small package of cloth. “The humans got that wrong. But that is irrelevant.”

She turned around to face her son again and unwrapped the cloth, revealing the namestone that she had carefully reassembled.

“Slate?” Fili shook his head, and his cheekbones protruded as he gritted his teeth. “What kind of heartless bastard gives their child a namestone of slate? Better to give her none at all!”  
“I thought that too,” Dís replied in a low voice. “But there is more to this stone than meets the eye.”  
Fili narrowed his eyes and felt his pulse begin to pick up speed. “What?”  
“Well, for one, I noticed that there was a piece missing, a chip from the outer layer where presumably, her father’s name would have been.” She held the stone between two fingers and showed it to her son, indicating the faint fracture line that was hardly visible to the naked eye.

“I talked to Balin about it, but he could only confirm , using his pocket magnifier, that there was indeed a piece missing. But of course, there was no telling what would have been on it.”  
Fili’s face was tight, his cheeks white and his mouth a narrow line.  
“But she has a namestone, and I went to Thorin to ask him... I asked him to... to give her name an entry into the Archives of Blood.”

Her son’s face seemed chiselled of stone.

“He agreed to that, but he also said that without a father, she would not be entitled to...”  
“To marry someone of high standing,” Fili finished for her, his voice bar of all emotion.  
“Yes.” Dís looked at the stone again. “And I got angry with him for his heartlessness and stubbornness. We... we had an argument, and all in front of your brother, Balin and Ori whom I had ordered along with me to talk to the king.”

She looked up again into Fili’s impassionate face. But she could see that his outer calm was only that; a shield to let nothing out of what he really felt. She could see his jugular vein throb rather fast.

“I got very angry,” she went on. “And I came to slam the stone onto the table. And then this happened.”

She nudged the stone with her thumb, and beneath her fingers, the layers came apart like a stack of cards. Fili inhaled sharply and his eyes went wide. Dís had to collect her thoughts and paused for a moment. She could hear that Fili’s breathing had picked up speed. 

“There were runes. Ori said that using slate as a means to carry secret messages had been devised by Durin the sixth.” She removed the upper layer with the names on it, showing the tiny carved runes to her son. “He deciphered them and wrote down what they said.”

She took the piece of parchment from the drawer and handed it to Fili. Finding herself unable to watch his face as he read, she wrapped the stone again and put it back into the drawer. As she did so, her eyes fell onto another piece of folded parchment. She took it and turned around again, to see Fili stare at the parchment with a pale face and an expression of utter bewilderment mingling with something she could not name. When he looked up, his eyes were wide and he swallowed hard.

“ _Amad_...” he whispered. “What is the meaning of this?”  
Dís blinked slowly and looked at the folded parchment in her hands. “It means that she was mistaken her whole life about her blood, Fili.”  
Fili stumbled a step back and the parchment slid to the ground. “She’s no half-breed,” he whispered hoarsely.  
“She is no half-breed.” Dís reached out to him, but Fili took another step and was already on his way to the door.

“Fili wait! Where are you going?”  
He stopped, curled his fists at his side and squared his shoulders. “To get a pony.”  
“You will do no such thing!” Dís hurried to his side and took his arm. “You have not heard everything.”

She regretted her words instantly as a sudden expression of utter panic appeared on Fili’s face. He grabbed the collar of her dress and pulled her almost off her feet. 

“What happened to her? Mother what happened to her? WHAT?”  
“Fili, for Mahal’s sake you’re choking me!”

His face horror-stricken he let go of his mother and stared at her, his breathing ragged. “ _Amad_... please tell me what happened to her...”  
“I was about to.” Dís straightened her dress and found herself unable to take her son’s behaviour amiss. “Please listen.”  
“I am listening.” Fili kept curling and uncurling his fists.

“When Bilbo brought me this basket, he also brought some news of her. Namely, that she had taken her child and what possessions she could carry and had left the Shire.”  
“What? She... She has what?” Dís could see he forced himself not to grab her by the yokes again. “Mother I... why didn’t you tell me? How could you keep that from me?”  
“And worry you half to death?” She shook her head. “I believed it was better that you didn’t know, Fili. You had such a load to carry already.”

His fists were still curling and uncurling, and by now he was gritting his teeth so hard that the sinews in his neck became visible. A sheen of moisture had appeared on his temples.

“We didn’t know where she was,” Dís went on gently, placing a hand on his upper arm. His muscles felt like wood under his shirt. “But then your brother remembered a conversation he had had with you about... about the boy not growing up a proper dwarf.”  
If not for the blinking of his eyes Fili could have been a statue.  
“So when he left...” She nervously licked her lips. “When Kili left, he went to look for her in Ered Luin.”

Fili kept staring at his mother for a long time, not a single muscle moving but his eyelids. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded as if it was coming from far away. It sounded like it came from a grave.

“He didn’t find her.” His head dropped back. “He didn’t find her, did he? I knew I would never see her again mother, but why tell me now?” He looked at her again, his eyes reddening. “Why tell me now? So I wouldn’t resist when you shove the next wife into my bed? I won’t, do not fret! Or are you telling me this to keep me from looking for her myself now that I am finally free to do so? Is she really gone? Are you hiding any more from me? Are there any more keepsakes you have that could have given me comfort through the last years but you chose to withhold from me to spare me the pain? Or was it so I could more easily forget her? I have...”  
“Fili!” 

Dís had tried to interrupt his outburst but only when she yelled at him did he stop. He stared at her with a look of utter betrayal in his eyes that hurt Dís to the soul.

“My love... I’m sorry if I did the wrong thing again with the intention of meaning well. I really am.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and handed him the folded parchment. “Yes, I do have another keepsake that I did not tell you about to spare you the pain, because I could not imagine it would give you comfort, and I ask your forgiveness for that. I did not do it so you would forget her, please never believe that.”

Without taking his eyes off hers, Fili took the parchment and opened it. He lowered his head to look at what he expected to be a letter. What he saw instead was a lock of golden hair, the colour if his own but softer. After staring at it for a long moment, he reached out with a trembling forefinger and touched it. 

Dís felt a sob catch in her throat and her vision blurred as she watched him take the lock and hold it in his hands. Then he slowly sank onto his knees. His head fell forward as he pressed the lock of hair to his heart, and Dís fruitlessly fought her tears when she heard the hoarse sob coming from her son. His shoulders shook, and after another desperate chocking sob, he began to cry, rocking his body back and forth as he pressed his hands to his heart. 

Her own tears flowing, Dís hurried to his side and knelt down beside him. “Fili, please. Please listen to me.”

Fili gasped for air and looked up. Dís’s heart broke to pieces when she looked at his tear-stained face, and she took a corner of her skirt and tenderly tried to wipe some of the tears away. 

“My love, listen to me. The letter I was sitting with when you came? It was sent by Lord Elrond of Rivendell.”

Fili gave her an empty, desolate stare.

Dís leaned forward and placed both her hands on her son’s cheeks, meeting his eyes, their bright blue light clouded with pain and tears. “Kili found her,” she whispered softly. “He found her, and he brings her back. They stayed in Rivendell to wait out a late winter storm, and Lord Elrond sent a messenger bird to Erebor. They will be crossing the mountains now, Fili. She’s coming back to you.” She brushed her thumbs across his cheeks. “She’s coming home.”

He was still pressing his hands holding the lock of his son’s hair to his heart, still staring at his mother as if he hadn’t understood a single word of what she had said. But after a few heartbeats, he gulped for air, and slowly crumpled into a heap to go very slowly and very utterly to pieces.

Dís knelt on the floor, holding his head in her lap and let him cry as she tenderly ran her hands through his hair. Her own tears flowed unheeded, and she knew that the next weeks would be the longest of their lives.


	34. Chapter 34

Waiting had always been the hardest part for Dís, and the days following the arrival of Lord Elrond’s message were no exception, in fact they were the worst days of waiting she had suffered in her life.

She hadn’t seen Fili since her revelation as she didn’t want to hover around him like a mother hen – although she presently felt like one– but she couldn’t even imagine what he had to be going through right now. Not that she wanted to.   
For his sake, she hoped he could still find solace in the forge; it would help him pass the days and maybe the hard work would also help him find some sleep.

Dís herself was restless and irritable as if it was her who would see her long-lost lover again and not her son, and she had a hard time not to take it out on her ladies who also were her friends. They understood and had a lot of patience, but Dís had no intention of creating a grudge.

One day, her aimless roaming brought her close to the royal kitchen again, and for a moment, she stood and debated with herself if she should approach Skadi again. Before she had consciously made up her mind she was already headed for the kitchen when a sound coming from an open storage room caught her attention. She listened, and instantly recognised it as a woman being harassed. She stepped into the doorframe.

A burly dwarf was pressing a woman against the back wall with the whole weight of his body. The woman was gasping for breath. Was he chocking her?

Mustering all her authority, Dís crossed her arms. “What in Durin’s name is going on here?”  
The dwarf jumped and spun around, met her eyes and pointed at the woman he had been assaulting. “She’s resisting me!”  
Dís slowly raised her eyebrows.   
“She has no right to resist! She’s marked, after all!”  
“Get out.” Dís voice was cold as ice.  
“But she’s a _laszûna_! She’s got...”  
“Get out!”  
“What is it to you anyway?”

Dís stepped into the room, as until now she had only been a dark outline against the brightly lit corridor. Now, inside the room, she was not merely a woman, she was clearly the Emerald Princess, dowager queen of Erebor. “Leave. Now.”  
“My... my princess.”  
“Now.”

The dwarf rushed past her and out of the door. Dís exhaled slowly and looked at Skadi who was slowly sinking to the floor, her back against the wall. She wasn’t crying, but she was still shocked.

“Skadi,” Dís said gently as she lowered herself down beside her. “Did you come to harm?”  
Skadi opened her eyes and shook her head. “No, you came in time.”  
Dís reached out and touched Skadi’s cheek where a large bruise began to show. The two women then looked at each other and as their eyes met, Dís brushed a few of Skadi’s hairs out of her face. 

“You were my friend,” Dís said. “I cried when they took you away, and I never understood why you had to be punished so harshly for something that was not your fault.”  
Skadi shrugged. “It was and is the law.”  
“Laws can be changed.” Dís got up and offered Skadi her hand. “As can fates.”  
Taking her hand, Skadi let herself be helped up without taking her eyes off Dís face.  
“Will you come with me this time?” Dís put a hand on Skadi’s shoulder. “I offer freely and expect nothing in return... except maybe that we could renew the friendship that was once between us.”

“I am still marked,” Skadi gave back. “How could you?”  
“I don’t care about that ring that has been forced onto you. We find a way to remove it, and in more than one sense of the word.”  
Skadi lowered her eyes, but when she looked up, something of the spirit that Dís remembered had returned into her emerald green eyes. “Thank you.”  
“Come.” Dís smiled and felt an incredibly old weight be removed from her shoulders.   
“And what about... him?”  
Dís took her arm. “Leave him to me.”

A hesitating smile grew on Skadi’s face as she and Dís left the storeroom and headed upstairs towards the royal quarters.

* * *

In the forges of Erebor, past the mighty furnaces, the song of hammer and anvil rang through the work halls and hallways.   
Fili swung his hammer as if the glowing iron before him was not a piece of crafting but a deadly foe. Sweat ran in rivulets down his bare chest and back as he drudged with the determination of the damned. But still, every minute seemed an hour, and every hour seemed a day.

Exhaustion let him sleep a few hours, but it did nothing against the dreams. The restlessness came back in the small hours of morning, and Fili ventured back into the forges to start the fight against the hours once more.

* * *

Skadi had been honestly surprised when Míl and Elira had greeted her like a long lost friend, but accepted their explanation that this was exactly what she was to them. And they were obviously very happy that this time, they could do more for her than just to give her a place to sleep and work to earn her bread.

After a bath Dís supplied her with a few of her own dresses and the four of them spent the evening together in Dís’s private chambers, sharing sad and happy memories and a bottle of dandelion wine. 

When at last, the servant who had been tasked with readying a set of chambers for Skadi came and announced the chambers were ready Dís accompanied her old, newfound friend to help her settle. 

She would talk to Thorin, but not right away. Skadi should be allowed to settle in first, recover her strength both physically and mentally, before Dís would inform her brother which would doubtlessly lead to a confrontation between him and Skadi.

What Dís didn’t know was that her brother had been on his way to her chambers just as she had left them. He had seen who accompanied her, had recognised the voice that was a haunt from the past, and he had silently headed back to his own chambers.   
Thorin spent a sleepless night staring at the ceiling above his bed. 

He had believed the pain was gone.

* * *

Two weeks had passed and Dís had been forced to watch her firstborn son become more and more a shadow of his former self, the tortured look never leaving his once so sparkling blue eyes.  
She had never felt so helpless in her life, apart from the moment when she had been forced to watch a dragon destroy everything she knew and take everything she valued. 

Fili left the hall again without having eaten much. He had forced a little bread and milk into himself, hardly enough to sustain him during his hours of labour in the forge, but he could not think of anything but the passing of days. Nothing had any meaning anymore than another day lying behind him. 

This day was no different. He went to the forges, took off his tunic and shirt and replaced those with the heavy leather apron. He tied his hair back and without further ado got to work, fetching water, pumping the bellows, heating the iron; and the hammer in his hand was like an old friend.

He had been working on this particular blade for a long time now. He wanted it to be perfect, perfectly balanced and perfectly formed. When he now cooled it in the bucket the water hissed and steamed, and he lifted the blade to inspect it. It was perfect, the perfect gift for his brother for Durin’s Day.

It was first when the steam had cleared that he noticed someone who had not been there before. He straightened up and recognised his mother.

“Fili...”  
“Mother?”

Dís walked up to him and her facial expression had Fili instantly worry about her. She had been crying.

“ _Amad_.” He hurried to meet her, the blade cooling forgotten on the anvil. “What is the matter?”  
Dís held out her hands to Fili who took them. “Fili,” she whispered.  
Fili felt her fingers around his own, squeezing gently.  
“Bofur has arrived. They had sent him ahead as a vanguard. Your brother will have reached the gates in less than two hours.”

A searing hot pain shot through his abdomen, as if he had been impaled by a glowing sword. For a second, his world spun, and when it settled again, he could see his mother smile. The pain was still churning in his guts, making his heart race and his breathing shallow. But he couldn’t think. He couldn’t move.

“Come,” his mother said gently. “You want to clean up and dress I gather. Come.”

He followed his mother out of the forge, his heart racing and his thoughts spinning until only one remained.

Katla.  
Katla was coming home.

* * *

They stood waiting at the gates, but Dís had only told very few people what would happen. Thorin was there with Balin standing at his side. Bofur was there, too, but his usual good-natured, happy spirit was absent, his face serious as he stood beside Dís and watched Fili stare into the distance, still as a statue, the wind tugging at his fur collar and playing teasingly with his hair. 

“I wouldn’t want to be in his skin...” Bofur whispered to himself. 

But Dís, standing so close to him, had heard those words and could only agree. There was no imagining what agony he had to be in.

And then they could finally make out the forms of five riders heading for the gates of Erebor.

Fili’s hands curled into fists. 

The ponies seemed to move agonizingly slow when in truth, they were moving at almost a trot. But it seemed to take forever until they were finally close enough to distinguish the riders.

There was the broad form of Dwalin and beside him, unmistakable even at this distance, Bifur. Beside Bifur rode a smaller person with dark blonde hair that had to be Bilbo. Beside Bilbo was a woman Dís instantly identified as Katla and beside her rode Kili.   
As they drew nearer, Dís could see that a much smaller person was seated in front of her second son, a child with golden hair. Suddenly she could watch them no longer, and tears blurred her vision as she turned her head away, covering her mouth with one hand.

About thirty yards away from those who were waiting for them, the group parted, and four of the five ponies trotted ahead while the fifth came to a halt. Dís could see the rider dismount; a woman with chestnut hair, wearing trousers under a skirt that was slit back and front to allow her riding astride.

Moving slowly as if he was underwater, Fili finally unfroze and began to walk, passing the other four riders without giving them any notice. 

Katla held on to the reins of her pony after dismounting, and as expected, she could see one of the dwarrow waiting at the gates come for her. She closed her eyes for a second and when she opened them again, she saw that he had broken into a run. Her heart seemed to be attempting to break free of her ribcage.

Fili came to a halt only a few steps away from her. He stumbled the last steps staring at those familiar jade-green eyes. 

“Fili,” Katla whispered, her voice thick with tears. 

Fili kept staring at her, but before Katla could say anything, he fell onto his knees with a heavy sob and with his head falling forward he grabbed the hem of her skirt. “Forgive me,” he choked out with gritted teeth. “Forgive me...”   
“Fili...” It was only a whisper.  
“Forgive me!” A hoarse sob escaped him. “Forgive me for not fighting for you! I should... I should have fought for you and our son! I should have stood my ground, but instead I let you go! I only thought about my duty...” He sobbed again, a rusty, painful sound that made Katla shudder. “Oh Mahal, please forgive me, I should never have let you go... I’m sorry, Katla.... I’m so sorry...”

Katla slowly knelt down in front of him and swallowed. “Fili, please don’t...”  
Fili lifted his head to look at her, the grief-stricken face wet with tears. “I’ve made so many promises I didn’t keep... I promised you that I would marry you, that you would have a rank and honour...” He swallowed audibly, and still his tears were running down his cheeks. “I promised our son a father and a future and... and I broke every single one of them!”

Katla blinked, and a tear fell free from her lashes. Another followed and she reached out with a trembling hand to touch Fili’s cheek. He closed his eyes with a sob.

“Fili... you need not act as if the fault was yours and yours alone. It was me who would not believe in us. It was me who told you it wasn’t meant to be. And it was those words that made us both believe that what we felt was not worth fighting for.” She dropped her head for a second and when she looked up again, her lips trembled and tears dripped down her chin. “I said it wasn’t meant to be, not you. And I left, using a debt that the king owed me to make him let me leave when I very well just could have done it anyway. Fili... you let me go after I told you it was the only way.”

Fili stared at her face as if he was unable to understand. 

“It was far too late when I finally realised that what I felt for you was not something I would get over. And if it hadn’t been for Frerin, I’d have gone mad...” She sobbed again and shook her head. “I don’t want you to believe it was your fault alone, as I carry as much of it as you do. So either we are both guilty, or we are both innocent. But I will not let you take everything upon you.”

Choking back his tears Fili leaned forward, and with another soft sob, Katla did the same until her foreheads touched. 

“I missed you,” Katla whispered through her tears. “I missed you so much.”  
Fili took a rasping breath, but his voice was only a hoarse croak. “I missed you too... Katla I missed you... Oh Mahal...”

Then he threw his arms around her and pulled her close. She, in turn, closed her arms around him as Fili buried his face into her hair. 

“I missed you...” He unsuccessfully tried to suppress another sob. “My gemstone, my jewel... oh Katla, I missed you, my love...”  
“I missed you too.” Katla’s voice was only a husky whisper. “My warrior, my prince, Fili, my love... “

They held on to each other as hard as they could, until their tears began to abate. 

“I will not let you go again.” Fili broke the embrace and leaned back to look at her. “No matter the cost, I will not be parted from you again. By Durin’s blood, Katla, I will not let you go again!”  
“Never.” Katla shook her head and smiled at him through her tears. “I will never leave you again, Fili.”

Then she reached for his face again, placed a hand on his cheek and tenderly ran a thumb along his eyebrow. Fili closed his eyes and turned his head, brushing that hand with his lips. He looked at Katla again, and hesitatingly reached out with a trembling hand to caress her hair. Katla closed her eyes and leaned forward as Fili moved his hand to the back of her head and leaned in while he pulled her close.

Their lips touched in a tender kiss, so soft it was hardly there.

After a moment of breathing against each other’s lips they kissed again, and Katla closed her arms around Fili and buried her hands into his hair. Their kiss deepened, tasting of salty tears as tenderness gave way to passion and passion to the ardent longing that had been denied for far too long. 

The cool northern wind played with their hair, mingling a few golden strands with chestnut ones as Fili moved his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks while gently running his thumbs across her skin. They finally broke the kiss and leaned back, their breathing only slowly calming down.

Fili felt a smile on his lips and saw it mirrored on Katla’s face. She brushed a few hairs from his face. 

“You look even more beautiful than I remember,” he whispered. “But I... I’m sorry if...” He broke off and bit his lower lip.  
“What?” Katla leaned forward to touch his forehead with hers.   
“I’m sorry but... but I think my memory is playing tricks on me because...” He leaned back. “I can’t remember you had chin hair.”  
A soft chuckle escaped Katla’s lips. “It’s because I hadn’t.”  
“It grew just like that?” Fili reached out with a tiny smile and ran a finger across her jaw line and through the soft dusting of chestnut hair.

“No.” Katla suddenly avoided his eyes and looked down. “It... I had it since I was forty. I was... I was mortified when it showed, and I’ve been... I’ve been removing it ever since.”  
Fili’s eyes widened. “You...shaved? How could I not have noticed that while I was living with you?”

“I did it in secrecy. I’m sorry if...” Katla swallowed hard. “I was just so... so used to doing it that I didn’t think about it. All I knew is that I didn’t want it, it was just another thing setting me apart. And I didn’t shave; I used hot wax because it... it doesn’t leave a stubble.” Her cheeks slowly turned a deep crimson and she continued in a trembling whisper. “It was first when I decided that our son should have the chance of growing up a proper dwarf that I stopped doing it.” When she looked up again, her eyes were full of desperate fear. “I could... I could do it again if you want, so I could look like you remember...”

“No!” Fili shook his head with emphasis. “No.” He caressed her jaw line again and smiled. “Would you want me to trim back my beard so I would look like you remember me?”  
“No.” Katla ran a finger through his beard, considerably longer than it had been when they had parted. “No, it has grown beautifully.” Then she looked up again and met his eyes. “My handsome prince.”  
“ _Ghivashêl_.” Fili placed another kiss on her lips. “ _Mahdêl_...”

“I love you...” Katla whispered against his lips, more tears escaping her closed eyelids. “Fili, I love you...”  
“ _Amrâlimê..._ ” Fili pulled her close again and held her as tightly as he could. “I love you, my jewel.”

With that he got up and taking her hands, helped her up in turn before he slung his arms around her again. 

They held each other in a tight embrace, but after a moment, Fili chuckled shakily into her hair and leaned back. “I feel as if...” He shook his head and blinked the remnants of moisture away. “I don’t know if I should laugh or cry now.”  
Katla wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and smiled as well. “Laugh. I’ve done enough crying as it is.”

Their eyes met, and their smiles widened. Katla chuckled, and Fili’s smile turned into a dimpled grin. Then their laughter broke free, the dam inside breaking just as the dam of their tears had broken earlier. Fili picked her up and spun her around, still laughing, and embraced her again after he had set her down. They shared another passionate, hungry kiss.

When Fili leaned back his eyes fell onto his brother who was standing beside his pony some yards away. Kili’s eyes were reddened and his cheeks were moist, but he flashed his brother his usual impish smile and winked. But when Fili noticed the boy who was still sitting on the pony’s back, his smile vanished. 

Kili noticed his glance and leaned over to the boy, whispered something and lifted him down. 

Fili felt his vision blur again as he walked, and he slowly went down onto one knee as he had reached the boy. He looked at Fili with wide, blue eyes, his golden hair tousled by the wind.

“Are you Frerin?” Fili asked, his voice rough.   
The boy nodded mutely.   
Fili swallowed hard. “And do you know who I am?”  
This time he shook his head.

“Frerin.” Kili bend down to whisper something into the boy’s ear and Frerin’s face lit up, his eyes growing even wider.  
“My father?”  
His throat too dry to speak, Fili could only nod. 

“ _Adad_!” Frerin threw himself at Fili and slung his arms around his neck. “ _Adad_! Uncle Kili was right! You’re not dead at all!”  
“No.” Fili closed his eyes as he embraced his son, fruitlessly fighting more tears. “No, I’m not.”

After a moment, Frerin peeled himself away and stared at his father. “Will I have a beard like you when I grow up?”  
“Most likely.” Fili smiled through his tears.   
“And do you have a sword for me?”  
“Not yet.” Fili tousled Frerin’s hair. “But I will make one as soon as I can.”  
“Will you show me how?”  
“If you want to, certainly”

“Uncle Kili!” Frerin turned around with a huge grin. “ _Adad_ is going to show me how to make a sword!”  
“Bodacious!” Kili grinned at his nephew in return. “Just remember what I promised you!”  
Frerin spun around again. “Uncle Kili is going to show me how to shoot a bow! Can you shoot a bow, _Adad_?”  
“Not really well.” Fili gave his son a lopsided smile. “I prefer swords myself.”  
“Like with sword and shield?” Frerin waved his arms about.  
“I use two blades.”   
“Two?”Frerin’s eyes were so wide that Fili was sure he could have seen his lashes had he stood behind him. “Like cousin Dwalin with his axes?”  
“Close.” Fili couldn’t suppress a grin at the childish enthusiasm. “I will show you.”  
“Now?”  
“No, another time. Right now there are a few people I want you to meet.”

Fili straightened up again and smiled fondly down at his son who was very obviously pretending to fight with two blades. Then he met his brother’s eyes and walked up to Kili to embrace him.

“Thank you, brother,” Fili muttered. “Thank you for bringing her back.”  
“If I hadn’t done it someone else would have,” Kili replied.   
“But you brought her back,” Fili said after leaning back. “So thank you.”

Kili grinned, Fili returned that grin, and in unspoken agreement they brought their foreheads together in a lovingly, brotherly head butt that made Frerin jump when he heard it.

Both brothers broke out laughing and Kili embraced Fili and slapped his back. “I can’t say how good it is to see you laugh again.” He stepped back. “It’s been too long.”  
Fili smiled and shrugged. 

“Frerin?” He turned around and held out his hand to his son. 

Frerin squinted up at him and took the offered hand, closing his fingers around Fili’s.   
They walked towards the gate where Dís, Balin and Thorin were waiting. 

“That lad is the spitting image of his father,” Balin said with a small, nostalgic smile. “There’s no denying who sired that one.”

Fili, still holding his son’s hand, came to halt in front of Thorin who regarded his nephew with an unmoving face.

“Uncle Thorin, there is someone I’d like you to meet.” He looked at his son and then back at Thorin. “My son Frerin.”  
Thorin’s mask cracked and his eyes widened ever so slightly. “Frerin?” He paused and took a deep breath. “You named him Frerin?”  
“We did.” Fili firmly held Thorin’s gaze. “Frerin, son of Fili.”

After a long moment, Thorin let his eyes wander down to muster the golden-haired boy. “So, you are Frerin.”  
Frerin slowly nodded.   
Fili then crouched down beside his son. “My uncle Thorin. He has raised me as a father, as my father died when I was your age.” He looked up again. “Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain.”

Frerin shrunk the tiniest bit back and leaned towards his father. “King?” He whispered.  
“Yes.” Fili smiled and whispered something into Frerin’s ear. “Can you do that?”  
“ _Tan menu_...” Frerin broke off, looking helplessly at his father.  
“... _selek_....”  
“ _Tan menu selek lanun naman_.”  
“Very good.” Fili smiled proudly and tousled his hair before straightening up again. 

Frerin took a few very deep breaths, drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders. Thorin lifted one eyebrow.  
“ _Vemu, Thanu men! Tan menu... selek lan... lanun naman!_ ”

Thorin’s face went blank for a second. Then a small smile tugged at his lips and he inclined his head. “ _Gamut sanu yenet, dashatû nanaûdashat men._ ”

When Thorin looked up again his eyes looked past Fili and his son. Fili turned around to see Katla who had walked up to them and was standing behind him. He took a step aside and Katla walked up to Thorin and bowed her head. 

“ _Vemu, Thanu men. Tan menu selek lanun naman_ ” Her Khuzdul was clear and fluent as she spoke the ancient ritual greeting.   
Thorin slightly inclined his own head. “ _Gamut sanu yenet_.”

Katla lifted her head again and met Thorin’s eyes. 

After what seemed to be an eternity, Thorin exhaled softly and extended both his hands to her. Blinking in surprise, Katla took the offered hands.

Thorin’s facial expression softened the slightest bit. “Welcome to Erebor, Katla, daughter of Dalir, son of Damli, son of Dafur,” he said.   
Katla’s lips parted slightly as she stared at Thorin in surprise. Then she bowed her head again. “Thank you.”

Thorin let go of one of her hands, and extended the other to Fili who took it with a slightly confused frown. Thorin smiled then, but it was a very small and very sad smile as he brought their hands together between his. 

“I give you my blessings,” he said in a low voice.

Katla and Fili exchanged a bewildered look, but Thorin had already let go of their hands and, after giving them a nod, he walked slowly back towards the gates.

“Let me add my greetings to the King’s,” Balin said after shaking his head. “Welcome to Erebor, Katla.”  
“Thank you.” Katla remembered the old dwarf and his kindness and gave him a warm smile. “It is good to see you again.”  
“You can’t imagine how good it is to see you again,” Balin gave back with a wink. “Seems like our prince is in a much better mood all of a sudden.” He then also winked at Fili.

Dís chose that moment to step forward. She wordlessly pulled Katla into a firm and warm embrace and when she stepped back, she gave her an equally warm smile. “Welcome to Erebor, Katla.”

Then she smiled at her grandson, visibly forcing herself not to break into tears and smile instead. “Frerin? I am Dís, your grandmother. Welcome to Erebor.”

Frerin frowned and his eyes darted this way and that, his tongue sticking out of a corner of his mouth. Then his face lit up and he smiled at Dís, an honest, open smile, his blue eyes shining. It melted Dís heart to see that smile again after so many years. 

“ _Sigin'amad_ Dís,” Frerin said and looked unconfidently at his father for approval. Fili nodded with a tiny smile and a wink, and Frerin returned his gaze to his grandmother again and grinned.  
Dís blinked her tears away. “Your Khuzdul is splendid, little warrior. Your father will be very proud of you.”  
“He is,” Fili said softly and ran a hand through Frerin’s hair. “Very proud indeed.”  
Frerin gave him a smile of utter adoration. 

“Frerin?” Dís held out her hand. “Are you hungry?”  
“I’m starving!”  
She laughed. “Boys like you are always hungry. Come with me, and I’ll find you something, what do you think?”  
Frerin looked at his mother. “ _Amad_? May I?”  
“Of course.” Katla smiled gratefully at Dís. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Frerin took Dís’s hand in his childish, unconcerned trust and skipped along beside her.

Fili turned to Katla again slung his arms around her waist to pull her close and into a kiss. When he straightened up he smiled and touched her forehead against hers. 

His voice was only a whisper. “Welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ghivashêl_ : Treasure of all treasures  
>  _Mahdêl_ : Blessings of all blessings  
>  _Amrâlimê_ : My love  
>  _Vemu, Thanu men! Tan menu selek lanun naman_ : Greetings, my king. May your forge burn bright!  
>  _Gamut sanu yenet, dashatû nanaûdashat men_ : Well met, son of my sister-son.  
>  _Gamut sanu yenet_ : Well met.  
>  _Sigin'amad Dís_ : Grandmother Dís


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an E-rated story that ties in here with Katla's and Fili's wedding night and a few other bits and pieces as a follow up to the events of this story. it's called Mahal's Blessing.

Katla spent a long time just looking at the mighty gates of Erebor before stepping through them. She had let go of Fili’s arm and now stood inside the mountain that her father and grandfather had died for in their attempt to reclaim their home. They had done what they could to make sure she was safe, and their last wish had been for her to see their home again. 

Katla was shivering, and felt her hairs rise when she looked around the ancient hall. She couldn’t explain it, she had grown up above ground, but seeing these halls before her, she had never felt so right. So grounded.  
Home.

“I’m home, father, grandfather. I am home.”

She felt someone step to her side, but it was Balin, not Fili.

“We buried everyone we found down in a tomb made for them in an old mine. If you ever want to pay your respects to your departed kin, they will be there.”  
“Thank you.” Katla smiled at the old dwarf. “I will. But another time. I’m sure they understand if I want to be with the living first.”  
“I’m sure they will.” 

Fili stepped to her other side and took her arm again. “Should I show you around?”  
Katla leaned her head against his arm. “Not today. Right now, all I want is food and some rest. Tomorrow.”  
“Tomorrow it is. We shall find you a place, then.”

“Fili, my lad?”  
“Yes, Balin?”  
“You’re not supposed to share chambers just yet, you know that.” The old dwarf winked at him. “So better find her a chamber of her own, and be discreet about it, aye?”  
Katla blushed fiercely, and Fili laughed under his breath. “How long do you expect me to be able to keep away from her?”  
“Oh well, only until the wedding.”  
“And how long would that be?”

Balin smiled up at Fili and winked again. “Well... since I know your mother has been busy making preparations it shouldn’t be so long.”  
“She has what?” Fili frowned and exchanged a baffled look with Katla.   
“Making preparations.” Balin nodded. “Shouldn’t be more than three to four days, I gather.”

Katla looked up at Fili. “Remind me to thank her on my knees for doing all this.”  
“She won’t let you kneel, but I will gladly do it with you.” Fili brushed his forehead with hers. “Then let us find you a chamber.”

“Katla?” Balin put his hand on her arm.  
“What is it?”  
Balin’s eyes shone softly when he looked up at her. “My brother and I have decided to make you an offer. But if you don’t want it, then there will be no harm done.”  
“What offer?” Katla felt Fili gently squeeze her arm as he had sensed her nervousness.

“Well, you see,” Balin began. “Since you have no living kin and all, we thought it’d be a shame that there’s no one to stand at your side when you’re getting wed to the prince. And as I am too old to have any bairns of my own, I’d thought I’d make you that offer. I would adopt you formally so you have kin to stand for you and I have someone to lighten up my older days.” He winked again. “As my brother does not much of the sort.”

It took a few moments for Katla to realise what he had offered her but when she did, gratitude overwhelmed her and she couldn’t stop the tears. “I’d be so honoured,” she whispered. “I’d be so honoured, how have I deserved all this?”  
Balin pulled her in a fierce hug and exchanged a small smile with Fili. “It has nothing to do with being deserving, lassie. I liked you from the beginning and thought it a shame you were so alone. Even more so after all this disaster had happened.”

Katla leaned back and wiped her eyes. “Thank you. I accept, and I am honoured. And happy.” She leaned forward and pecked a kiss on Balin’s cheek. “Should I call you _Adad_ , then?”  
Balin’s eyes shone with moisture. “You can call me whatever you like, lass.”  
“Then maybe you should call him homely, because that’s an apt description,” Fili ventured to lighten the mood. 

The three of them shared a laugh, and parted with the promise that Balin would fetch her come morrow and they would go to the Halls of Wisdom to go through with the adoption ceremony. 

Katla leaned against Fili’s arm as they made their way to the royal quarters. They met Dís who was on her way to find them, letting them know that Frerin had fallen asleep in her quarters after devouring sweet bread and milk like there was no tomorrow.

After summoning a servant and readying a set of chambers for Katla, Fili gently picked Frerin up into his arms to carry him into his own bed. He spent a while sitting on the edge of the bed watching his son sleep, and after gently brushing a few hairs from the sleeping face, he finally left him rather unwillingly.

Katla was in his arms the instant he had closed the door to Frerin’s room, demanding a kiss that was only too happily given. 

“Will I really have to wait for the wedding night?” Fili whispered into her ear.  
Katla rested her face against his neck. “I don’t know why, but I’d really like to.”  
“I think I do understand.” Fili rested his cheek against her hair. “It is what should have happened long ago.”

They shared another kiss, making a silent promise that this was the last time they would have to resist. It was actually a sweet sort of pain, a desire that they knew would be fulfilled soon.

* * *

Dís had come in somewhat later, accompanied by her ladies, to see what could be done about a proper wardrobe. They had arranged a bath for Katla, fussed about her for a while and managed to fit her into one of Elira´s dresses that had to be let out in the seams because Katla was quite tall for a woman.

“I can see where the thought comes from you’d be a half-breed,” Míl said as she brushed Katla’s hair. “All that business with the namestone, and then you’re one of the tallest women I’ve ever met. Isn’t Fili upset about it?”  
“Not that I know of,” Katla replied with a blush.  
“Why should he?” Elira inspected the hem of the dress. “Why shouldn’t he enjoy kissing a woman without having to bend his head?”

Katla blushed even more as the other ladies chuckled, but Dís gently patted her shoulder. “Forgive the old crones for making these jokes. We’re just jealous of your youth and beauty, and the happiness you radiate.”  
“Who are you calling a crone?” Míl pressed her fists against her hips in mock anger. “You’re not that old, Dís!”

This time, Katla joined the laughter.

“It will be interesting to see what her stone is,” Skadi said as she took Elira’s place behind Katla and began to braid her hair. “I couldn’t imagine what it might be.”  
“My stone?” Katla frowned up at Dís.   
“Every woman has an affiliation to a certain gemstone,” Dís explained. “Some know their stone, some never find out. But with a princess it is necessary to know as she will wear her stone in her name, and the qualities of the stone will influence her reign if she should become queen.”

Katla stared at her open-mouthed. “Mahal have mercy,” she breathed.  
Dís frowned. “What is the matter, my dear?”  
“I just realised that...”  
“That you are marrying the marked prince and will be queen someday?” Dís took Katla’s hand with a gentle smile. “Have no fear. We will be there for you. You have many years yet to learn.”

Katla didn’t seem convinced. In actual fact, Dís could see fear in her eyes, and she could understand it. She squeezed her hand and smiled encouragingly. 

“Honestly, Katla, have no fear. The Queen’s Court is not what it used to be, far from it. You will see that it sounds much grander than it is. And whatever you need to know I shall teach you.”  
“Thank you.” Katla stared at her hands. “I feel... I don’t know. All I wanted is Fili, but I didn’t think of the consequences.”  
“Now I gather that happened to him, too,” Míl said dryly. “So don’t you worry.”

With dinner that night, Katla sat beside Dís, together with Skadi. She could see Fili from where she sat and tried not to glare at him too obviously, but whenever she looked at him, he gave her a warm smile.   
“Three more days,” Dís whispered to her. “I did what I could to prepare everything.”  
“I have no idea how I can ever thank you,” Katla whispered back.   
“No need.” Dís touched Katla’s forearm. “I am forever in your debt for bringing the smile back onto Fili’s face.”

They exchanged a long look, and Katla found she could understand.

* * *

The adoption ceremony, like all dwarven ceremonies, was simple and modest in execution as it was deep in its meaning, and as with everything, there was a written contract signed by Katla, Balin and the witnesses. As for the ceremony itself, it was over quickly; three drops of blood drawn from both their palms and added to a cup of mead that was then shared between the two of them. An oath followed, as ancient as the words it was spoken in. 

The reverent silence after these words, as Balin and Katla were still holding their outstretched hands, was suddenly interrupted by a childish voice piping up.

“Is Uncle Balin now my _sigin’adad_?”

Everyone chuckled at that, and even Thorin had to smile.

Balin let go of Katla’s hands and winked at the boy. “I sure look more like one than an uncle, laddie.”  
“Besides,” Kili said. “I’m the uncle now.” He grinned at Thorin who shook his head and rolled his eyes, smile unwavering, however.

That concluded, they all went then to the Lair of Gemstones. Fili felt strange entering this room again, as it summoned a lot of memories that he had rather forgotten. But watching Katla sit down and be blindfolded gave him a feeling of sweet anticipation that quickly made him forget his worries.

Katla was very unsure at first, and she didn’t really know what was expected of her. She had no idea what it meant to be affiliated to a gemstone and was afraid she would fail when all of a sudden, she felt a stone on her palm that felt so good and so warm she had to close her fingers around it.

“Does that one talk to you?” Balin asked.  
Katla felt the stone in her hand. She wasn’t sure if it talked, but there was something.“It feels right,” she said hesitantly. “I’m not sure if it talks to me, but it feels right.”  
“Then that’s what it does. Let me see.”

Balin removed the blindfold and Katla looked nervously around. Fili gave her an encouraging smile.

“Garnet.” Balin looked up and smiled. “We will have a Garnet Princess.”  
“Garnet?” Thorin lifted his eyebrows. “I’ve never heard of that before.”  
“It’s a very humble stone,” Dwalin muttered, this time partaking in the ceremony as he now was considered Katla’s kin. “Sure fits her, but a princess?”

Katla looked into her lap, feeling the familiar burning of shame at having failed. But then she felt Balin pat her shoulder.

“Just listen.” He cleared his throat. “Garnet is known as the stone for a successful business. Garnets can be used to make a person popular and have self-esteem. The Garnet is a stone of purity and truth as well as a symbol of love and compassion. And furthermore it is used to provide courage, protection and blessings to warriors going into battle.” He looked around, seemingly very satisfied.

“Of course.” Dís laughed gently. “It fits her personality perfectly. And honestly, Thorin...” She turned to face her brother. “What better stone to have than one to help a prospering business? The business of re-building this kingdom? What better queen for this kingdom than one who knows the meaning of want and labour? Maybe in the future Erebor will have the need for a Ruby or Diamond Queen, but the Garnet is what we need now.”  
Thorin met his sister’s eyes and finally nodded. “You are right, Sister.”

Dís could see in his eyes that he was maybe not completely agreeing with the aspect of love and compassion, but truth and purity he could not deny, as little as the stone that would help Erebor bloom again. Hopefully the protection in battle would not be needed, but to have it was surely no mistake.  
But she also knew a thing that Balin had omitted, as she had her whole life been fascinated in the gemstones and their meanings. The Garnet symbolized the illumination of a darkened soul. 

She looked at her son and the smile that was on his face and in his eyes, but her eyes were drawn back to her brother.

* * *

Dís and her ladies had made a dress for Katla out of the silk she had bought in Dale. She didn’t have Katla in mind when purchasing it, but she had to admit that the colours were perfect on her, the green and gold perfectly harmonizing with her chestnut hair. 

And now, as Dís and her ladies were making Katla ready for the wedding, she could hardly contain her joy as she tried to imagine her son’s face when Katla would enter the chamber. Everything had felt so sad and wrong back then, but looking at Katla now, her beaming face and wide eyes as she looked into a mirror, Dís could not suppress the urge to embrace her.

Their eyes met through the mirror. “I am so happy”, Katla whispered. “I never thought I could be so happy.”  
“You deserve it.” Dís placed a kiss onto Katla’s temple. “Both of you.”

There was a knock, and Skadi opened the door. “It is time. Are you ready?”  
“Almost,” Míl grumbled, who was not satisfied with the train of Katla’s dress.   
“Leave it be. It’s not going to hold anyway when we go down the stairs.” Elira patted her friend’s back, and Míl straightened up with a sigh of resignation.

Since Balin would oversee and lead the ceremony it was Dwalin who walked at her side when she entered the chamber with the large pillar. She felt a little claustrophobic upon entering, but when she saw Fili stand beside the pillar, dressed in finery and smiling at her, his hair and beard unbraided, all her fears and worries vanished.

* * *

The banquet that night was the grandest affair that Erebor had seen so far since its recapture from Smaug. Dís earned a lot of praise for her preparation and organisation, but in truth, she thought, what made this wedding so special was not the food. It was the bridal couple.  
In an environment of arranged matches as was custom in royalty, rarely had two people looked so happy when sharing their first cup of ale and bite of bread as the ritual start of the wedding feast. And their happiness radiating off them was simply infectious to everyone in the hall. 

Dís watched the bridal couple withdraw from the feast after the food was cleared, a sensible custom, she thought, as it ensured the groom would not be too inebriated to perform his duties on the wedding night. But she could hardly imagine that her son even wanted to wait for a single pint of ale. She smiled wistfully as she remembered her own wedding and again, prayed to Mahal that he might bless them with everything they wished for.

But just as Fili and Katla were about to depart, Thorin got up and called out for them, bidding them to wait.

Dís froze, and felt something cold creep down her spine. He wouldn’t... he couldn’t actually stop them now?

“Uncle...” Kili stood up, his voice holding an undertone of warning.

Fili’s face had gone blank and Katla held on to his arm as if she was about to faint. A heavy silence hung in the hall.

“Fili my prince.”Thorin met Fili’s eyes and inclined his head. “And Katla. And everyone else who wishes to partake. I ask you to meet me in the Gallery of Kings.”  
“Now?” Fili blinked in surprise. “Shouldn’t the coronation...”  
“Now.” Thorin stood up. “Your wife has already given the line of Durin a healthy heir. I wish to give her what is due to her.”  
Fili bowed his head. “As you wish, my King.”

Dís looked at her brother as she got up from her chair; she sensed that something else was on Thorin’s mind. Something heavy, but she dared not ask. She could only pray to Mahal that whatever she suspected, she would be mistaken.

* * *

It hadn’t taken them long to fill the Gallery of Kings where Thorin was standing in front of his forefathers’ throne, his arms crossed and his face unreadable, as he watched Fili and Katla approach him. 

When the two had reached Thorin and knelt down he uncrossed his arms and nodded.

“Katla, daughter of Balin, son of Fundin”, he began, his voice ringing through the hushed silence. “I know that the traditions of our people say the coronation of a princess should happen after the wedding night. But through your body you have already given Durin’s line another son. You are already a woman of the line of Durin. So what is due to you would be the crown of the Garnet Princess. But I won’t give that to you.”

“Thorin!”Dís could not suppress a gasp and a few urgent whispers rose up from the crowds.

Beside her, Kili had gritted his teeth and looked as if he was ready to drag Thorin behind the throne and gut him. 

Katla began to tremble, and beside her, Fili had gone still as a stone, his face pale. 

Thorin regarded his sister with a glance, his eyes strangely soft, before looking at Fili and Katla again. 

“I have had to learn a bitter lesson these last years. Even more bitter as I refused to learn it until it was almost too late. The times have changed, and we with them. I was holding on to a past that can no longer exist, and I clung to laws and traditions that we no longer need. And I learned...” Here he paused and gave his sister a long, intense look before resting his eyes on Katla again. “I learned that while you cannot rule a kingdom with your heart alone, you cannot rule it without one, either.”

He looked at Fili and held out his hand. “Give me your crown, sister-son. You should no longer wear it.”

With trembling hands, Fili removed the golden crest marking him as heir to the throne and handed it to Thorin. 

Thorin nodded and all of a sudden, Balin walked beside him, having stood behind the throne. He carried a large, flat pillow with whatever was upon it covered with a red cloth. Thorin handed him Fili’s crown and a gasp went through the crowd when he removed the cloth.

“I realised that this kingdom needs no bitter old warrior unwilling or unable to accept the changes that fate brings. Erebor needs a King willing to face the challenge of building something new and prospering out of the ashes of the old. A King unburdened by a past that cannot be brought back to life.”

With a slow and deliberate movement Thorin reached up and took the crown that rested on his own head. He looked at it for a moment, and with an almost gentle smile, slowly lowered it onto Fili’s head. 

“A King with hope for the future, not regrets from the past.”

Fili stared at Thorin as if the latter had lost his mind. But Thorin just smiled and took the crown from Balin’s pillow. It was akin to the crown of the King but more delicate, and it was decorated with a myriad of tiny red garnets, and a set of three large ones at the front.

“And a Queen who will bring us prosperity,” Thorin went on. “A symbol of purity, of truth of compassion. And of Love.”

Katla closed her eyes when Thorin lowered the crown onto her head, and her mind reeled. She couldn’t quite grasp what was happening. 

“Rise now”, Thorin said. “And face your people.” Then he lifted his voice. _“Iishmikhi uzbad undu ‘urdel, Filid ashatû Felin, thanu Ereborû!_ ”

Thorin’s voice echoed in the large hall and seemed to reach the tip of the mountain. 

“ _Ishmikhi Katla nathû Balin, nud’aban athane Ereborû_!”

Slowly Fili and Katla turned around and as one, the dwarrow in the crowd began to cheer and hail them.   
Fili began to smile a little hesitantly, and as he took Katla’s arm, their eyes met. Together, they faced the crowd once, more and the exultation made the pillars tremble with the echo of joy.

Kili was the first to jump free of the crowd and he embraced his brother in a fierce bear-hug that made Fili gasp for breath. Then he stole a tiny kiss from Katla which made her blush furiously, but laugh as well. 

“I know you two are eager to see your bedroom again,” Kili whispered. “But this surely needs to be celebrated as well?”  
“How could we not, brother?” Fili shook his head in disbelief, but with a smile. “How could we not?”  
“Oh and lest I forget.” Kili made a little bow. “Frerin and I have made some sleeping arrangements. He will be staying with his uncle for the next few days.”  
“I’m in your debt.” Fili had to laugh as he shook his head. “Kili, what would I do without you?”  
Kili bowed with a grin. “At your service.”

Bilbo hurried over now to congratulate as well. “This is really embarrassing,” the hobbit muttered. “If I had known about this I’d have brought more pipe weed!”  
“Just come visit us again soon,” Katla laughed. “And bring a few barrels.”  
Bilbo bowed as well and exchanged a grin with Kili. “At your service.”

Thorin had stepped back to the place beside Dís who looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Brother. You didn’t... how could you just give up your crown after everything you went through to gain it?”  
“It was time,” Thorin said in a low, rough voice. “Fili will wear it with much more grace and justice than I could ever have hoped to. It was time.”

Dís looked at her brother and could only throw her arms around him. Thorin embraced her as well and they held on tight for a very long time.

When Thorin leaned back he gave his sister a sad and gentle smile as he wiped the tears from her face. “Go tell them I have made room for them and moved out of the King’s chambers, it is theirs now, after all.”  
“When did you do that?” Dís asked him with widening eyes.  
“During the last two days. I will take Fili’s chambers once they are cleared and presently sleep in one of the guest rooms.”  
Dís touched his cheek and blinked her tears away. “Why don’t you tell them yourself?”  
He shook his head. “You are better at these kinds of things. And I... I need some solitude right now.”  
“I understand.” Dís leaned forward and touched her forehead against his. 

When she left him, Thorin remained and watched everyone file out of the Gallery, following the new King and his Queen. He cast a long look at the throne and discovered, against all expectations, that he did not feel sadness or anger or regret. He felt only relief.

* * *

Both Fili and Katla were still trying to catch up with events through another short boast of celebration, and even more so when Dís informed them that they would have the King’s chambers from now on.   
Fili could not deny a feeling of relief upon hearing those words. As little as he could understand his uncle’s change of mind, he was glad he wouldn’t have to lie in the same bed with Katla on their wedding night as he had done with Ysona. 

But all worries, insecurities and all confusion vanished when Fili finally closed the door behind him and he and Katla were alone at last. Carefully and respectfully they removed their crowns and put them onto a pillow on a low, carved table of stone. 

“My Queen,” Fili whispered as he closed his arms around Katla and pulled her close. “My lovely gemstone.”

Katla closed her eyes and let him claim her lips in a kiss full of passion and hunger. She was gasping for breath when he released her, but so was he.

In the soft candle light of the bedroom they undressed, each bit of skin that was uncovered greeted with soft caresses and kisses. But as Fili was about to head for the bed, Katla took his hand.  
He paused, but his smile widened when he watched her take the heavy quilted blanket form the bed and place it onto the floor in front of the hearth.

“I have so many fond memories...” She knelt down and smiled. “Come and share them with me.”

Fili knelt down and kissed her again, pushing her gently down as he did so. The firelight cast their entangled limbs in a golden sheen.  
But this time, there was no pain, only pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Iishmikhi uzbad undu ‘urdel, Fili dashatû Felin, thanu Ereborû_ : Hail the King under the Mountain, Fili, son of Felin, King of Erebor
> 
>  _Ishmikhi Katla nathû Balin, nud’aban athane Ereborû_ : Hail Katla, daughter of Balin, Garnet Queen of Erebor


	36. Chapter 36

The next few days passed by almost like a dream, Fili and Katla spent their days getting to know each other again, and Fili getting to know his son; the three of them becoming a family.

And at night, when they were alone, they made love with a passion and hunger that never seemed to be satisfied. And while Katla had been somewhat unhappy and concerned about the marks the pregnancy had left on her body, Fili had kissed every single one of them and told her how proud he was of the scars she bore of her own battles. 

It then became a game for them; Katla finding a random scar on his body and him telling her where he got it. But when she came to touch the scar on his forehead words failed them both and they would just kiss to banish all the bad memories that were still haunting them every now and then.

It was with great anxiety that Fili took up the duties that were the King’s, but he quickly discovered that with having been close to Thorin for so long, whether with him in his study or beside his throne, there was nothing new, nothing he had not at least observed. He began to settle, but it still felt strange not to ask Thorin for his approval. 

Katla spent her days now in the Halls of the Queen but had been adamant about not wanting to take Dís’s place as the head of the Queen’s court.

“I may be the queen,” she had said. “But I am queen in title alone. You earned this place. I shall learn from you and take the place when it is time.”

Dís could accept that, she herself had believed that there still was time for Katla to learn. And there was a lot she had to learn. Katla’s days were filled with etiquette, politics, Khuzdul lessons, customs and practise and rituals. 

Yet despite being so occupied during the daytime hours Katla didn’t fail to notice that Skadi seemed to be avoiding her. She thought about asking Dís, but then decided against it. 

So one evening she followed Skadi out of the hall after the evening meal.

“Skadi? A word, if I may?”  
Skadi inclined her head. “Of course, my Queen.”  
Katla looked around. “A more private place, maybe?”  
“Up on the balustrades is my preferred quiet spot. It is a mild night and not too windy.”  
“Then let us go there.”

Once they had mounted the stairs and stepped out into the mild spring night, Skadi turned to Katla with another incline of her head. 

“What is it you wanted to speak about?”  
Katla took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “I am not sure if I am imagining things, if so, then please forgive me... but you seem to be avoiding me. Have I done you wrong?”

Skadi narrowed her eyes and tilted her head as if she hadn’t understood a word Katla had said, then a sad smile flit over her face. “No, my Queen. You have not done me wrong. I just thought it prudent to keep away from you for your own sake.”  
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”  
Skadi shook her head. “It is something Dís has avoided talking about, as of yet. It is because of what befell me many years ago, and what has destroyed my life and my reputation. I should not be near you, the Queen of purity, honesty, love and compassion.”

“Skadi, you talk about yourself as if you have no value at all!” Katla reached out to touch her, but Skadi avoided her touch.   
“My Queen...”  
“No, please. Everyone in the Queen’s court calls me by name, and I would like for you to do that as well. You spoke of an ill fate, is there anything I could do to help?”

Skadi was silent for a moment, and her voice was soft when she spoke. “I do not want your pity.”  
“I am not offering you pity.” Katla’s voice was low as well. “I offer you friendship, for that is what I would have between us, if possible.”  
“You don’t even know me, why would you want to be my friend?”

Katla lowered her eyes for a moment before meeting Skadi’s gaze again.

“Because you look like you need one,” she whispered. “You are an outsider somehow, in a manner that I don’t understand. But I don’t want you to be alone, I know the feeling and I know how much it hurts sometimes.”  
“What do you know, child of a woman.” Skadi’s voice was much gentler than her words. “What do you know of being an outsider?”

“I was one most of my life,” Katla replied. “I grew up as a foundling with no parents, amongst humans who believed me to be a half-breed. I have been called impure, abomination, ugly and a hundred other hurtful things almost all my life. And when I finally met other dwarrow for the first time... I was still an outsider. They treated me with more respect, but I still had no place among them. I had to lie about my blood to be accepted... but I only did it so my son would not have to suffer what I suffered.”  
“But you are no half-breed,” Skadi replied after a moment. “You have been lucky. The shame I carry will never leave me, it is burned both into my body and my soul.”

Katla sighed and reached to her again. “What can I do?”  
“Nothing.” Skadi shook her head and after hesitatingly hovering her hand above Katla’s, finally allowed her to take it. “You can do nothing, but for you to understand, I fear I must share my shame.”

She paused and looked past Katla into the night. “I came here to marry a prince, a few years before Smaug came and took it. But I came under a bad omen, I believe. My stone is the Onyx. It stands for separation and for invisibility. But also for self confidence and deflecting negative feelings. I had need of the latter two, my Queen, as the former two seemed to have cursed me from the day I married.”

Katla held her hand and listened.

“A few years I lasted. And then my husband decided to cast me aside for being barren. It was a shame, but none I wasn’t able to bear. I was still part of the court, but then the news came back to Erebor that my family had no interest in my return. They, as it turned out, had cast me out as well, for being barren. I was of no use to them, and apparently their love for me was not enough to equal that. That was when I lost everything I had. I was outcast, shamed, and had only one place to go.”

Skadi met Katla’s eyes. “Do you know what a _laszûna_ is, my Queen?”  
Katla shook her head, but then her mind suddenly unravelled the meaning of the word. She paled and felt her stomach drop. “Mahal’s mercy...” She swallowed and had to fight her tears. “It can’t be true...”  
“It is true. I had no one to take me, no one to care for me. I was cast out, marked with my shame, and abandoned to the only place these women have left to go to.”  
“No one?” Katla swallowed. “There was no one who would have helped you?”

Skadi took a deep breath. “There was one,” she said after a moment. “A young prince who, as I learned, had fallen in love with me even as I married his cousin. He would have taken me, but he was... he was not allowed to. His father and grandfather forbid him to take a barren woman. He tried, but he could not defy them.”

Katla frowned, and felt in an odd way reminded of her own fate, and Fili’s. “That prince...” she said after a moment. “Do you know if he is still alive? Do you think you could forgive him that he couldn’t help you?”  
“I have forgiven him long ago,” Skadi gave back, a distant look in her eyes. “Because I know what power the king and his son held over him. He was powerless. But what I have not forgiven him is what happened later. Much later. He found me in Ered Luin. He approached me, he courted me. And I began to believe that I could leave my shame behind. But it wasn’t meant to be.”  
“Did he die?”

Skadi shook her head, chuckling sadly under her breath. “No. Or maybe, he did. He was a blacksmith, a prince in exile with no throne and no kingdom, only a heavy load of memories. But then the dwarrow of Ered Luin rallied around a wizard with a map and a key, and suddenly, he was heir to the throne again.”

Katla felt a cold shiver creep down her spine.

“And thus it ended.” Skadi squared her shoulders. “As an heir to the throne, he could not allow love to get in the way of his duties. He needed heirs, he said, even if he had already named his sister-son as the next in line. And he left me, still a shamed woman. He was in tears as he did so, but he left me. Still a shamed woman, a _laszûna_. And even here, in the new kingdom, I was a woman without worth until Dís found me and disregarded every bit of protocol and tradition in making me her lady.”

Katla’s thoughts were racing and suddenly, it became clear to her: It had been Thorin’s own pain that had led him to believe that there was nothing more important than duty. For ever to admit otherwise would have meant to admit he had made the wrong choice, to face a pain whose existence he had denied for so long a time. And with that realisation another piece of the puzzle fell into place.

“Does he know you are here?”  
“I gather he does, although he has yet to acknowledge my presence.” Skadi shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, though.”  
Katla bit her lower lip. “But he does...”  
“Do you really think so?”  
“How could he not? You are sitting at his sister’s side at every meal!”  
“And he still has not even looked at me once.”  
“Because he cannot bear to face you?”  
“Him?” Skadi laughed mirthlessly. “Afraid of a woman?”

“No.” Katla shook her head. “Not of you. Of what he has done to you.”  
Skadi crossed her arms and shook her head.  
“But that is why... that is why he gave the crown to Fili.” Katla still chewed her lower lip. “He spoke about the past and the future. And he spoke of a king without a heart.”  
“What would that have to do with anything?”

Katla met Skadi’s eyes. “That he finally realised what had become of him after he parted from you. He was opposed to our marriage, but something made him change his mind rather quickly. Fili told me that even after he had agreed to allow me to come back he was still opposed to us getting married. And all of a sudden, he gave us his blessing, and then the crowns. What else could it be than him realising that he was making Fili do the same thing he had done to himself, something he deeply regrets?”

Skadi walked past her and slowly placed her hands onto the rough stones in front of her as she stared into the distance. 

“I wish I could believe you,” she whispered after a moment.   
“I wish that, too. My heart hurts when I think of what you two must have been through, and especially you, with that... dreadful fate.”

Katla stepped beside her and let the wind cool her face.

“Do you think you can ever forgive him?”  
“I don’t know.” Skadi pressed her lips together for a while before she continued. “Some wounds are just too deep and too painful. If he asked it of me, maybe I could, but he will never do that. He is too proud a warrior to do so.”  
“Do you really think so?”  
“I do.”

The two women stood silently side by side, lost in thoughts of their own.

Finally, Skadi looked at Katla again. “I thank you for your patience and compassion. And I thank you for accepting me as I am, without thinking of my shame.” A small smile appeared on her face. “I would be honoured to call you friend, Katla.”  
Katla embraced her then, and as they parted, she smiled at Skadi as well. “Maybe my stone can help you, I would so wish for it to happen.”  
“So would I, although I cannot imagine it coming to pass.” Skadi sighed. “Forgive me, but I would like to be alone with my thoughts for a while.”  
“Of course.”

As Katla headed down the stairs, she began to feel a strong urge to talk to someone, and the only one she could possibly trust with this was Fili. But how would he react to such revelations about Thorin in the light of what had happened these last six years? 

It wasn’t before they were in the privacy of their bedroom that Katla sat beside Fili, who was smoking his evening pipe, and took one of his hands. She told him everything Skadi had told her after a promise to hold his silence and he kept on smoking, though his eyes narrowed as she proceeded. When she had finished emptying her heart to him, Fili put down his pipe and closed her arms around Katla in a wordless embrace.

“I understand a lot of things much better now,” he muttered into her hair after a long time of silently holding her. “It doesn’t mean I forgive him, but at least I understand now.”  
“Will you ever be able to?”  
“I don’t know.” He leaned back to look at her. “Have you?”  
Katla shrugged. “He didn’t do it because he is evil. He did it because he believed it was best, even if...” She broke off and sighed. “Even if it wasn’t. But he is also very proud and very stubborn, a trait, as I have come to know, that is very common in the line of Durin.” She smiled and ran a hand down Fili’s cheek. 

Fili gave her a little, crooked smile in return. “So you’re telling me to give in and leave it be?”  
“No. It is not as easy as that. But if he ever should ask your forgiveness, and I believe firmly he should, then listen to what your heart tells you, and not your pride.”  
Fili’s smile softened. “I understand.” 

Then he pulled her close and they lay down together, not making love but just holding each other until they fell asleep.

* * *

It was only two days later that Fili received a request from Thorin for an audience at court. Not a request for a private audience, so whatever was on Thorin’s mind, Fili mused, would concern public matters and not the apology he still felt Thorin owed him. He knew Thorin’s pride and stubbornness, of course, and that trying to coerce him would only cause even more bitterness between them. 

When the next day came where Fili held his public court, or as much of a court that there was, he realised he was waiting for Thorin with great anticipation. 

By sheer chance the second throne that Fili had ordered the stonemasons to make had been finished and set into place the very night before, so that for the first time, his queen could sit at his side as he wanted.  
And as Dís watched them, the new king and his queen, for the first time in Erebor’s history sitting side by side to rule the kingdom, she knew that the new dawn for Durin’s people had finally broken. 

So it was that Thorin, as he walked across the golden floor towards the throne, could not hide his surprise when he laid his eyes on the king and his queen at his right side.  
But he did not falter in his steps as he approached the throne and, to Fili’s surprise, he went down onto one knee and bowed his head.

“My King, I come as a supplicant.”

Fili had the initial impulse to call him uncle and to tell him to stop grovelling, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the look in Thorin’s eyes that had done it, maybe it was his own feelings and maybe both. But then he realised that Thorin must have had a good reason to request an audience during court, and even more so for bending his knee before Fili, in front of everyone.

So the young King steeled himself and nodded. “Speak, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thorin lifted his head and met his eyes. “I beg of you a change of ancient laws, so that a wrong done within these laws can be made right.”  
Fili lifted his eyebrows. “Explain.” He felt Katla’s eyes on him and gave her a hardly perceptible nod. Remembering their talk the other night, he had an idea about what was to come.

“The wrong I speak of happened almost two hundred years ago, during the reign of Thor. Flovin, son of Flói, son of Fror, brother to Thror, King under the Mountain, married a woman whom he later cast out as being barren. When Flovin’s second wife conceived, she was cast out by her family as well and was forced into a life of shame and disgrace as a _laszûna._ ”  
Fili nodded slowly. “And there was no one who would have taken care of her?”  
“There was a young prince,” Thorin said, his voice rough and low. “He had fallen in love even when she was forbidden to him, married as she was. But he was the first in line to the throne, and his father and grandfather forbid him to come near her. They sent her to the houses of the fallen women so she could not taint this prince’s reputation.”

“I agree with you, Thorin, that laws like this one are cruel and without justification.” Fili nodded towards Ori, who was present in his function as a head scribe. “Find these texts for me, and let it be known,” Fili raised his voice, “That no woman shall further be shamed for something that lies not within her fault!”

After Ori had written these things down, Fili let his eyes wander over the few people attending this court; a few of their old friends of the company, including Dwalin and Balin, and most of all, his mother and her ladies. Dís face was impossible to read.

“Is that everything, Thorin?” Fili rested his eyes on his uncle and predecessor again.  
“No, my King.” Thorin squared his shoulders. “I thank you for making sure no woman will ever again be treated this cruelly, but I also beg of you to restore her name and title to what it once was, so she can hold her head up high again as she used to.”  
“Since I have no intention of adding to her shame I will not ask her name here in court, but once you let me know, I will surely do that. She deserves no less.”

“There is no need for secrecy, my King.” Skadi stepped forth from the ranks of the queen’s ladies. “Everyone knows who I am, and what my past holds. I have no desire nor is it possible to hide it.”

She stepped in front of the throne. “I still bear the mark Thor had put on me, according to the laws as they were back then. It gladdens my heart that you chose to change them.”  
“Then we shall have that mark removed,” Fili said to her. “And I will give you back what once was yours. You shall be the Onyx Princess once again.”  
“It cannot be done.” Skadi squared her shoulders. “The ring is made of mithril, as eternal as my shame was meant to be. And even if you remove it by force, the mark and the scar will remain.”

Fili did not fail to notice that while Skadi was standing, holding her head up and her shoulders straight, Thorin at her side was still kneeling as the King had not yet given him leave to rise.   
But he intended to see to Skadi first. The woman had been through enough.

“Dwalin,” Fili said. “Is it true? Can that ring not be removed other than tearing it out of her flesh?”  
“I fear so, my King.” The old warrior shook his head. “You cannot cut or saw through mithril, the only way to destroy it would be by melting it.”  
“I see.” Fili pressed his lips together. Just as he was about to admit being at a loss, Katla leaned over to him and whispered something into his ear. Fili’s face lit up.

“Well then.” Fili got up and walked down the steps from the dais to stand before Skadi, still ignoring Thorin. “If we cannot change the fact that the ring is there, we will change the meaning of it.” He cautiously touched the ring in Skadi’s nose and lifted his voice again. 

“Let it be known then, that this ring, and every other like this that might still exist shall no longer and never again be considered a mark of shame! Our warriors have since the dawning of time marked their skin with ink to decorate their bodies and show their imperviousness to pain. Let henceforth our women decorate their skin with all the gold, silver, mithril and jewels they chose to show that they are our treasure, our most protected treasure! Let the women of Durin’s folk show how strong they are and what worth they have!”

When he looked at Skadi again, he could see tears in her eyes, but as she was about to kneel, he took her hands and stopped her. “No, you shall not thank me, Onyx Princess. I have done you no service other than making right a wrong that has been done to you. Carry your mithril with pride, for it shows that you have prevailed.”  
“My King.” Skadi bowed her head and her voice trembled ever so slightly. “My beloved King.”

With that, she stepped back to Dís’s side who embraced her. Both women were silently crying, and the other ladies were wiping their eyes as well.

With that settled, Fili looked at Thorin again. “I am glad you brought this to my knowledge so I could finally do right by her. Was that all, Thorin Oakenshield?”  
“I have one more thing to say, my King.”  
“Speak, then.”

Thorin looked up and met his eyes. “You said once that you felt like your heart had been carved out when you had been forced to part from your One. It was me who made you do it. I only saw duty, as I have all my life. My only goal in all my life was the regaining of this throne.” His eyes came to rest on the throne that had once been his grandfather’s and for a short time, his own. “I allowed myself to think of nothing else. I allowed myself nothing that could have kept me away from that goal. I hurt myself, but more importantly, I hurt others in the process even more. And even while my actions might be excused with my focus on duty alone, I should have seen far sooner what I did to you and her. My pride refused to let me see it, and that cannot be excused. It was due to my pride that I damaged you almost beyond healing. I shall not ask forgiveness, for I know that I don’t deserve it. I just want to let you know how much I regret what my cursed pride made me do.”

With that, he dropped his head and his shoulders heaved with a heavy sigh.

Fili found himself having crossed his arms behind his back. Just as Thorin always had done when contemplating a difficult situation. He almost smiled to himself, but focussed back on his kinsman who was still kneeling before him.

“So you forced me to part from my One despite you having done it before with yours?”  
“Yes.”  
“And why did you change your mind in the end and allowed our reunion to happen?”

Thorin was silent for a while before lifting his head again. “Because I realised two things,” he said in a hoarse voice. “First, I realised that the pain did not go away as I had thought. I have deceived myself into believing it... after I wronged my One the second time.”  
“A second time?”

Thorin gritted his teeth, but he seemed determined to lay all his faults and shames bare before everyone present. Fili would have spared him all this had Thorin just given him a glance he could interpret as a plea, but he hadn’t. 

“As you have guessed, the young prince I spoke about, the one who loved the Onyx Princess, was me.”  
“Yes, I guessed as much.”  
“I found her again in Ered Luin, with the intention of doing right by her this time. But instead of marrying her and making her mine, erasing her shame and giving her a safe haven, I turned my back on her again when Gandalf showed up with a map and a key and told us we could regain the throne I had thought lost forever.”

A long, devouring silence hung in the gallery after these words. 

Fili looked up at Skadi who returned the gaze with her facial expression turned to stone. Then he looked at his mother whose expression he couldn’t read, either. He had to admit to himself, he was at a loss as to how to proceed. He finally looked at Katla. His queen met his eyes and slowly left her throne to step beside him.

“Have you ever asked her forgiveness, Thorin?” Katla’s voice was gentle but strong.

“No.” Thorin shook his head. “What I did was unforgivable and I shall not belittle her by asking forgiveness for treating her like she was naught more than a piece of clothing to change at will; a winter cloak shed with spring and picked up again with autumn.” He took a deep breath, and Fili could see the burning of shame in his eyes. “I know, and Mahal knows, how he has punished me after that, but I still do not deserve forgiveness for treating her like this. And this, Mahal’s curse on me after I turned my back on the One he gave me, was why I forced my pride to give in and let you be together again. For under no circumstances would I want the man whom I love as I would my own son suffer what I have suffered!”

“Mahal’s curse?” Fili felt a strange tightness in his chest as he looked into Thorin’s eyes. There is was, the plea not to make him tell, but it had come too late.

Thorin lowered his head again. “Why do you think I never had the heirs for whose sake I gave her up?” And when he lifted his head again, Fili could hardly recognize this broken man as the dwarf who had led them to Erebor and won their ancient homeland back. 

“He took it, Fili, he took everything from me. The reason why I have no heirs is...” Thorin’s voice finally broke with shame. “Mahal made sure that after I refused to be with the One he gave me, I would be with no other woman ever again.” 

Fili was as if struck by lightning. He remembered Thorin’s reaction when he had confronted him once about the fact that he had no heirs of his own, and now he felt ashamed to have the reason uncovered like this, for everyone to witness. And as he looked at Thorin again he realised that the man kneeling in front of him had broken himself, had shattered his pride and his honour and every bit of self-respect he had. To admit, or even accept, impotency was nigh impossible for any man, and for a dwarf as strong and proud as Thorin, it had been the ultimate blow. Mahal’s curse indeed. 

“Uncle...” he whispered and held out his hand. 

Thorin looked up again and hesitatingly took the offered hands, letting Fili help him up. 

Wordlessly Fili leaned close to him and placed his forehead against Thorin’s. He took a deep breath, but there were no words that could express what he felt. Instead, he pulled Thorin into an embrace, fierce and strong, and after a moment, felt his uncle close his arm around him in return.

“I’m sorry, my lad,” Thorin whispered into his hair. “I’m sorry.”  
“I know, Uncle.” Fili closed his arms even tighter around him. “I know.”

“Please release me.” Thorin leaned back and did not meet Fili’s eyes again. “I would like to be alone with my shame.”  
“You may go,” Fili said, as it was the only thing he could do for him now. “But you know where to find me.”  
Thorin nodded, then bowed, and left the gallery with slow and heavy steps. Fili sat heavily down on his throne again, wishing he would wake up in his bed... and everything had been a dream. 

He didn’t notice that Katla and Skadi exchanged a very long look of sadness.


	37. Chapter 37

The night was cool and silent, and Thorin watched the clouds of his pipe drift away with the light breeze as he sat in the window of the western guard room and looked out over the lands before him.  
His thoughts roamed freely, back to every mistake he had made, and back to every joy he had felt. 

Pictures of Fili’s and Kili’s childhood rose in his mind, only to be replaced by the images of Smaug tearing into Erebor.  
Battle cries rang in his mind when it wandered back to Azanulbizar.  
Fiery green eyes almost hidden by locks of raven-black hair.

A single candle fought bravely against the darkness in the small room, and a slow veil of smoke rose into the starry infinity above. 

“Thorin.”

Lost in his memories, he could almost hear her voice as if she was standing behind him in the doorframe. 

“Thorin?”

Thorin almost lost his balance on the windowsill as he swung himself around. She _was_ standing in the doorframe. He slowly put his feet down and got up, putting the pipe down where he had been sitting.

Separated by only a few feet distance but by decades full of pain and shame, they silently stared at each other, being unable to breach the gap. It would have required a leap of faith, but Thorin had lost all his faith in himself the day he had realised what had become of him.

Skadi finally walked into the room towards him, but even as she stood directly before him, the void between them remained as deep and as gaping as it had been since the day Thorin had torn it.

This close to her, Thorin could see the faint streaks of silver in her hair, and the tiny bead of onyx that decorated her nose-ring. Just as Fili had promised her, it had been turned from a mark of shame to a sign of wealth and worth. 

“What is it you want?” Thorin finally asked, his voice low.  
“It is strange,” Skadi gave back. “That after everything, I still felt the need to come and see you after what happened.”  
“And should I kneel before you too and beg your forgiveness? I know I have not deserved it.”

“Whether you deserve it or not, it’s not for you to decide.” Skadi’s face was unreadable; her eyes glowing like emeralds in the dim light. “But you were right never to ask me. I would not have been able to, had you just asked me, even had you begged.”  
“Then what made you come here?” Thorin met her gaze, wanting to drown in those eyes. 

“I came here not because I wanted you to beg, Thorin.” Her face now showed the first signs of emotion as her eyes softened upon speaking his name. “I came here because you regretted, and because you atoned. I know that admitting your shame like you did must have been the hardest thing you have ever done. I came here because as you mentioned, Mahal had punished you, but do not think I came because I want to gloat at your misery.”

Their eyes were locked in silence.

“I witnessed you break your pride and honour to restore mine. I could never have forgiven you, Thorin, had you asked me. But because of what you did, and because you did not ask, believing yourself not worthy, I found that I could.”  
Thorin dropped his mask that hid his emotions and swallowed. “Skadi...”  
“You asked me what I want here.” She reached out and touched his cheek. “What I want is you. Still, after all those years, after all that happened, I still want you.”

Thorin pressed his lips together and his jaw muscles clenched. “No,” he finally whispered. “You want a memory, not the man standing in front of you now.”  
“You do not understand.” Skadi took another step forward. “The man of my memories is the one I could not forgive. The man in front of me is the one I have forgiven. He is the one I... He is my One.”  
“I am no one’s,” Thorin rasped hoarsely. “Did you not hear what I admitted about me? I am no man at all, Skadi. Not anymore.”

A faint, soft smile suddenly bloomed on Skadi’s lips. “You stubborn rock of a dwarf. You still do not understand.” Then she reached out and caressed Thorin’s cheek again with her thumb. “You said that Mahal cursed you.”  
Thorin closed his eyes at her gentle touch, and the next thing he felt was her breath grazing his lips as she whispered: “Let me break that curse for you.”

Their lips met, their arms closed around each other, and even as the void was about to swallow them, it was gone. The dust motes dancing in the flickering candle light shone like stars that silently rained from the sky like snowflakes. A breeze coming from the open window made them swirl and extinguished the candle, leaving them in darkness.

Skadi broke the kiss gently and with both her hands, pushed against Thorin’s shoulders until he leaned against the wall. 

“Absence diminishes small loves,” Skadi whispered against the skin of Thorin’s neck. “And increases great ones...” She moved her hand down below his belt, and Thorin gasped, his eyes springing wide open upon feeling a sensation he had not felt in years. “As the wind that blows out the candle... and fans the bonfire.” She brushed his lips with hers and knelt before him.

Thorin’s head fell back against the wall. 

When he later had collapsed and she had gathered him into her lap, he opened his eyes and asked her to marry him in a voice husky with unfamiliar feelings.

“No,” Skadi replied with a smile. “I will not marry you, Thorin Oakenshield. For I need no witness and no contract and no vows of blood to know that you are mine.”

Thorin smiled and buried his hand into her hair to pull her into another kiss.

* * *

It was a very heated discussion in the large conference room that day, and Katla listened to various points of reasoning but did not feel like she really belonged here. True, Fili had meant it when he had said they would rule together, but this was practically a council of war, and was that really a place for her?

“There will be no second Azanulbizar,” Dwalin said again, slamming his fist down so hard it made a few cups dance. “We are not people on the run this time, tired and disheartened by the terror we fled from!”  
“But the Halls of Moria are still full of evil.” Balin shook his head thoughtfully. “We need a large army, a very large army, and we don’t have that at present. Not yet, in any case.”

“Maybe Daín will be with us this time,” Fili said slowly. “For if he is, then nothing could stop us. Then there are the dwarrow of Ered Luin and the Grey Mountains.”  
“And we have allies!” Dwalin stood up and shook his fist. “As much as I dislike admitting it, think what we could do with only a hundred of Thranduil’s archers behind us!”  
“If he would be willing to give them to us,” Balin fell in.  
“Of course, now.” Dwalin sat down again. “But he owes us,” he added in a mutter. “So he’d better.”

Katla felt her thoughts go adrift as the discussion turned towards allies. She had heard many stories about the battle of Azanulbizar, and about the terrible price the dwarrow had paid that day. She could almost see the gates before her inner eyes, spilling forth enemies, goblin and orc alike, like an unstoppable flood.

_The dark halls of Moria... twelve times twelve giant pillars rising from the bedrock below to reach for the bedrock above, the mighty hall of Kings in darkness since the day it has been lost. Evil lurks there, hiding in the shadows, crawling down the pillars like a swarm of hungry beasts, devouring all and everything in its way._

She shuddered with a gasp, unaware that the table around her had fallen silent.

_Helplessly she watches the black swarm of evil flood the hall, only to suddenly vanish again like oil on water to which a drop of soap has been added. And then she sees it, the dim glow coming at her in the darkness._

_Fear. It clutches her heart in coldness as she watches the glow coming nearer._  
Terror. It paralyzes her like a small animal before the eyes of a viper.  
Death. A shadow in the glow is coming for her. A shadow of dark and terrible power and of unspeakable evil. 

The dwarrow at the table watched Katla with concern. She had grown pale, staring at nothing, and seemed to be in the clutches of a horror that only she could see.

“Katla...” Fili laid a hand onto her arm and almost flinched. It was hard as wood. “Katla!”

And suddenly, she spoke. A voice so full of terror it made everyone’s hairs stand on edge. A voice coming from the darkest abyss of discreation.

“Durin’s Bane...”

“Katla!” Fili shook her gently, appalled by the sight of her. 

And suddenly she was back, gasping for air and shuddering fear. She slowly became aware that everyone was watching her with concern.

“What about Durin’s Bane?” Balin asked gently after a while.  
Katla looked around, and finally met his eyes. “Don’t go to Moria...” She whispered. “ _Adad_ Balin, _Irak’adad_ Dwalin, Fili... don’t go to Moria! You only find your deaths there. Please, please don’t go to Moria!”

The warriors around the table exchanged concerned looks with each other. It was obvious that Katla just had had a vision, and with her bearing the Garnet, a stone that offers light and hope on the path that leads to your dreams and goals, a stone that blessed warriors before the battle, her words gave no hope for the path they were about to tread.

“Katla, my Queen...” Fili placed an arm around her and pulled his trembling woman close. “Please calm down, no decision has yet been made.”

Katla closed her eyes, but as soon as she did, another vision came to plague her. She had no means to stop it.

“It seems that the Garnet has given her not only the gift of insight...” Balin frowned thoughtfully and addressed her again. “Katla?” He leaned forward as she opened her eyes again, tears streaming down her face as she saw what no one else could see. “What do you see?”

“A room, a small room, with a single window high above...” Her toneless whisper made her words even worse. “Remains of dead warriors are scattered here, around a large stone slab... there is a skeleton sitting against it... pierced with arrows, clutching an open book... a scribe... not a warrior...”

Ori shrunk a little in his chair and paled.

“Can you read the book?” Balin asked.

Katla’s unseeing eyes widened. “We cannot get out. The end comes...drums, drums in the deep...they are coming...”

Fili watched her in deep concern. What was it that had touched her? “Katla... come back to us,” he urged her gently. But there seemed to be no stopping the vision.

“No...” Katla shook her head forcefully, making her tears fly. “It is a coffin... it is a coffin... this room is a tomb!”  
“A tomb...” Balin pressed his lips together and cast a look at his brother. “A coffin...Is it empty?”  
“No... The lid is closed... there are runes on the lid...”

After a moment, Dwalin leaned forward, trying to keep his voice calm. “What do the runes say?”

Her lips moved, but no sound emerged. Then Katla sobbed again, a lost, forlorn sound of desolation. “No... no... not that! Not that!”

“What do the runes say?” Dwalin asked again.

Katla went still as a stone, her face white as a sheet but unmoving, as if chiselled from stone. Only her lips moved, her voice sounding as if it came from far away. From beyond the grave, even.

“Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, King of Moria...”

The silence was as heavy as the bedrock around them. 

As suddenly as it had come, the vision left her again, and sunk into Fili’s waiting arms with a sob. He held her until she had calmed down a little, looking around from face to face in the room. It was impossible to read Balin’s face, and Dwalin was gritting his teeth so hard that it was audible. 

Finally, Balin and his king exchanged a slow nod.

“We shall not go for Moria,” Fili said after a deep, heavy intake of breath.

* * *

Katla had left the hall after the evening meal for some fresh air, and she was watching the stars above, tiny specks of light in the darkness, like myriads of tiny diamonds strewn onto midnight-blue silk. 

Bits and pieces of her vision still haunted her, but then she heard steps coming from behind, and heard Fili’s voice call her name.

“Katla?”  
“I am here.”  
“What are you doing here in this cold?”  
Katla managed a smile. “It’s not cold. It is a pleasant cool after the heart in the hall downstairs.”  
“Still.” He removed his fur coat and placed it around her shoulders. “You have gooseflesh on your arms.”

Smiling to herself, Katla buried her face in the heavy fur smelling of wood smoke, pipe weed and Fili. 

“I was watching the stars,” Katla said after a moment, not wanting to relieve the memories of the visions. She leaned against Fili when he stepped behind her and closed his arms around her. “There are so many of them...”  
Fili followed her gaze. “Only Mahal knows how many...” Then he brushed her cheeks with his lips. “But I’d rather watch you in candle light right now.”  
Katla chuckled softly and turned around to offer her lips for a kiss. 

Fili buried his hands into her hair and she opened her lips to him, all thoughts of distant stars and haunting visions forgotten.

She burrowed into his embrace after the kiss and sighed contently. 

“Are you happy, my love?” Fili asked her as he sifted his fingers through her hair.  
“Why do you even ask that?” Katla looked up at him and noticed a small trace of worry in his eyes.  
“You have been so... distant these last few days. Looking inward as if something was amiss. Not to speak of....”  
“Do not speak of earlier, please.” Katla touched his cheek. 

“But something else is troubling you, too. It has been for days.”  
“You know me too well, Fili.”  
“And still I cannot decipher what is wrong with you.”  
“There is nothing wrong with me.” Then she took one of Fili’s hands and placed a kiss onto each fingertip. “I have never been so happy, to be here with you, with our son, with your mother and your brother.”  
Fili smiled. “Kili and his nephew are happy too, as it seems. They’re almost as close as brothers but for the age difference.”  
“Yes,” Katla said softly. “A man should have a brother.”

Fili met her eyes, and with a gentle smile, Katla moved his hand to rest it onto her belly. 

Closing his arms around her, Fili buried his face into her hair. A single shooting star suddenly fell from the sky, silently and swiftly, like a soul send down into the mortal world as a gift from Mahal.


End file.
